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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765017">Noncontober 2020 Fics</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze'>TheseusInTheMaze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Fingering, Bestiality, Blackmail, Blood and Gore, Blow Job, Bondage, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, Drugging, F/F, F/M, Face Slapping, Filming, Forced Feminization, Gang Rape, Hand Job, Impregnation, Incest, Intercrural Sex, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mind Break, Mind Control, Noncontober 2020, Object Penetration, Overstimulation, Public Use, Rape Fantasy, Rimming, Role Swap, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Sexual Coercion, Somnophilia, Stealthing, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tentacles, Underage Rapist, Vaginal Fingering, age gap, emotional cruelty, forced stripping, nose bleed, spitting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:01:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All my noncontober fics!</p><p>Each chapter heading has the ship and the noncontober prompt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Master (Dhawan)/Missy, The Master (Dhawan)/Original Male Character(s), Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Missy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Underage, Thirteen/Dhawan!Master, Teacher/Student AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doctor Theresa Smith sat at her desk, marking papers. She tried to ignore the queasiness climbing up the back of her throat, tried to ignore the leering glance of the student in the front row, or the way her heart was beating just that little bit faster. </p><p>"Doctor," her student said, "are you alright?" His tone was downright solicitous, and it made her stomach churn. </p><p>"This is detention, Otto," Theresa said, keeping her eyes on the papers in front of her. She pressed her thighs together, tried to ignore the way her clit was beginning to throb. </p><p>"But Doctor " Otto said, the picture of innocence, "you don't look well." There was the scrape of a chair, and Theresa looked up sharply. </p><p>Her unruly pupil was making his way towards her desk, and he was smirking. </p><p>"Otto," Theresa said, and she tried to make her voice as stern as possible, "this is detention. Sit back down, or I'll be forced to write you up."</p><p>"You don't need to put on such an act, Doctor," Otto said. He leaned forward, his hands planted on her desk, his tie dangling down. "Nobody else in but you 'n me." He smiled at her like a predator, all dark eyes and bright white teeth. </p><p>She was seized with an urge to grab his tie and yank him down, force his chin into the top of the desk. It would probably leave a bruise - it could match the bruises he had sucked into her neck, the sides of her breasts, her inner thighs. </p><p>"Doc," he said imploringly, and one hand went to brush a piece of blond hair behind her ear. </p><p>She jerked back, flushing. "That isn't appropriate," she said, her voice thick. </p><p>"No?" He raised an eyebrow, and looked entirely too smug for his sixteen years. "I guess this isn't either, then." He reached further down, and grabbed her breast roughly, through her bra and the thin fabric of her blouse.</p><p>	Theresa made an undignified noise, and she shoved his hand away, standing up and glaring down at him. “Keep your hands to yourself,” she snapped, holding on to her breast, as if she could squeeze the soreness away. </p><p>	“Not what you said the other day,” he said. He was coming around the desk now, and it wasn’t <i>fair</i> that they were nearly the same height. She was a <i>teacher</i>, and that had authority. Authority that all the other students listened to.</p><p>	Not him. </p><p>	He’d cornered her against a lab table once, let her feel his erection against her hip, and God help her, it had been so long, and she was <i>so</i> lonely. She’d let him take her in that empty classroom, his cock thick and hot as it plunged into her. She’d come - embarrassingly fast - and vowed to never do it again. He was fifteen and her student, and if she was really lucky, she’d only be sacked and blacklisted if she got caught, instead of being thrown in jail. </p><p>	She’d planned to wash her hands of it and go on with her life, try not to think about her little lapse in judgement. </p><p>	He had other ideas. </p><p>	This would be the… eighth, maybe ninth time he’d menaced her like this, and she gave in every time, because the shame gnawing at the base of her gut seemed to paralyze her. </p><p>	“Doctor,” he said, his tone full of mock affection, and now it was both hands on her tits, squeezing them. She gasped, grabbing at his wrists and trying to shove them away. </p><p>	“We can’t do this, Otto,” she said, her voice thick. “I don’t want it. Or you.” </p><p>	“Of course we can,” he said, “and of course you do.” Then he was bending her over the desk, seemingly with no effort whatsoever. His hand was on the back of her neck, “We’ve done this before. We’ll do it again.” He was pressing her face into the wood, hard enough that she felt it in her sinuses. He was… he was grinding against her now, his cock pressing against her through his uniform pants and her work pants. </p><p>	“Otto, please,” she said, and her voice was entirely too choked up.He was draping himself over her back, humping against her backside and forcing her breasts into the hard wood of the desk. She sobbed, as he found her waistband, then grabbed her vulva through her trousers and her knickers. </p><p>	“Sh,” he said, and his fingers were clumsy as he fumbled her trousers open, then down, taking her knickers with it.</p><p>	She could <i>smell</i> him, that squirrely, too much Lynx and BO smell she associated with teenage boys, and he was musky, like some kind of animal that left her head spinning. She made a desperate, gasping noise as his hand came between her legs, gently prodding at her cleft. </p><p>	“All that bitching,” he breathed, his breath hot on her neck, “and you’re <i>this</i> wet?”</p><p>	“You’re… please,” she mumbled fruitlessly. He was stroking over her slit, his thigh fingers rubbing over her clit. She whimpered and squirmed, trying to push off, and he pressed his hips forward a little harder. </p><p>	“Shut up,” he said, and he grabbed one inner thigh, squeezing it hard enough to bruise. </p><p>	She gasped, and tried to close her legs, but he kicked them open. The hard bulk of his erection was prodding against her bare arse, his trousers itchy against the delicate skin there. He let go of her, and she couldn’t even muster the energy to get away from him. He’d just grab her again, maybe hurt her.</p><p>Even if he didn’t hurt her, he had… compromising pictures of the two of them on his phone that he could send to anyone. A picture he’d taken the last time he’d forced her to kneel for him, his cock in her mouth. </p><p>So why bother?</p><p>She still struggled, when the wet, hot tip of his cock dragged across the bare skin of her arse, then nudged between her labia. He’d stopped rubbing her clit by now, and was just clutching one hip. </p><p>	“No,” she mumbled. “Please.” </p><p>	He chuckled like a drain, and shoved his cock into her in one deep, intense thrust.</p><p>	She gasped, clenching around the intrusion, and he gasped, forcing himself deeper inside of her. </p><p>	For all that he was menacing and liked to show off just how strong he was, he did still have the stamina of… well, a fifteen year old boy. The indignity of his dick thrusting inside of her went on for a mercifully short period of time… to be replaced by the indignity of him coming inside of her. </p><p>	“Fuck,” he groaned, and his cock pulsed inside of her, warmth flooding her cunt. He’d claimed he’d make her come with him inside of her, but after that one clandestine encounter when her orgasm had milked his cock within an inch of either of their lives, he’d gone off too fast. </p><p>	He was grunting, grinding against her still, keeping his cock inside of her. “Give us a mo, love,” mumbled into her ear, and his hips ground forward. “Should be up and ready for round two.” Another hip wriggle. “I’ve been <i>practicing</i>.”</p><p>	She shuddered, gave a broken little sob. His cock flexed inside of her, and then his fingers found her clit, and his mouth nibbled at her ear. She clenched around him desperately, and felt the hateful indignity of her orgasm wash over him, even as his cock began to harden inside of her. </p><p>	“That’s the great thing about being my age,” he said, and he was beginning to thrust again. “Always ready to go.” </p><p>	Theresa sobbed as she came, and he moaned in her ear, his hips forcing his cock in and out, heavy and hot, a reminder of her transgression.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Somnophilia, Thirteen/Yaz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 2! Somnophilia!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz was restless. She wanted to pace, or swim, or run.</p><p>	She was also exhausted. Intensely, angrily exhausted.</p><p>	“Okay,” the Doctor said, and there was a manic edge to her voice as the two of them trooped into the TARDIS console room, “so that was a <i>slight</i> miscalculation -”</p><p>	“I know,” Yaz said. </p><p>	“And the blast radius -”</p><p>	“I know,” Yaz interrupted. The Doctor had been ruminating about all of that for the entirety of their muddy, slogging trip back to the TARDIS. “I know. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine!”</p><p>	“Y’sure?” The Doctor looked at her critically. “That doesn’t sound like -”</p><p>	“Doctor,” Yaz said, as the door to the TARDIS creaked open, “I heard you the first time. I’m just tired. I’m tired and I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”</p><p>	“You sure? You look kinda anxious.” The door slammed behind them, and Yaz was tired enough that she didn’t even jump. </p><p>	“I just… need to shower,” Yaz said. “Shower all the troubles away or… somethin’.” She made a dismissive hand gesture, trying to get her feelings in order. </p><p>	“Yaz,” the Doctor said, her forehead wrinkling, “are you cross with me?” </p><p>	The Doctor looked like a lost puppy. “I’m tired and I’m covered in muck,” Yaz said. “I’m gonna shower and sleep for a thousand years.”</p><p>	“You sure? You look kinda edgy. You could use some -” </p><p>	“I’m fine,” Yaz said, a little sharper than she meant. “I’m fine,” she said again, a little calmer this time. “Absolutely fine. Just... “ She attempted to smile. The Doctor sometimes didn’t get regular things. Like how humans needed to sleep and recharging time. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’, Doctor.” </p><p>	“It’s technically <i>always</i> morning, y’know,” the Doctor said, with that same desperate puppy dog hope. “SInce we’re in the time vortex.”</p><p>	“It’s also technically <i>not</i> the morning,” Yaz countered. “Good <i>night</i>, Doctor.”</p><p>	“Have a good sleep, Yaz,” said the Doctor, and Yaz tried to ignore how plaintive she sounded. </p><p>* * * </p><p>	Yaz took a shower. She stood under the hot water, letting it beat down on her, and she washed the muck and the frustration off. It wasn’t the Doctor’s fault that she was just… like that. She wasn’t human and maybe there were some human things that she just… didn’t get. </p><p>	At least the jittery energy seemed to have been washed away with the hot water. She crawled into bed, turned the light off, stretched out. <i>I’ll have to apologize to apologize to the Doctor for being cross</i> was her last thought, and then she was down for the count. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	She dreamed of heat. A prickly, stifling heat that seemed to be crawling over her like a mist. Ticklish tendrils of… something on the soles of her feet, moving up towards her back. Her blanket was gone, but it made the heat worse. She squirmed, drifting a little into consciousness, and then she diving down into… what, lava? Hot pudding?</p><p>	Something was touching her. Something was worming its way up her thigh, across her back. She rolled onto her back in the water, and then she was coming up for air. There was the sensation of <i>squeezing</i>, of pinching, and there were hands on her breasts, </p><p>	There was a sensation of something… touching her. Fingers worming their way up her thigh, pinching her nipple. Teeth against the side of her breast, a tongue along her neck. She squirmed, mumbled something, halfway awake, and there was a chuckle against her ear. </p><p>	She fell deeper into sleep, and she was being choked by mud, and it seemed to be touching her all over, seemed to be worming its way inside of her. There were rocks, or maybe they were sticks, or the bones of the Earth, wriggling and worming their way inside of her. They’d crawl up her throat, out of her mouth, her <i>ears</i>. </p><p>There was something… wet, and now she was coming up for air again, waking up, and there was a glimpse of blond hair between her thighs, her blankets thrown aside, and then there was s sensation like being pushed inside her head, and she was asleep again. </p><p>Some great golden statue was mounting her, in her dream, and it was flocked like plastic. Something was licking her, tongue swirling over her clit, and she thrashed as more fingers slid inside of her, only now they were in her arse as well. Were they fingers, were they bones, were they teeth?</p><p>	Yaz came back awake, and no, that was definitely the Doctor between her legs. The Doctor licking her, the Doctor’s fingers inside of her. She was falling back asleep somehow, and she didn't know <i>how</i>. Her breasts were shaking with every thrust, and her toes were curling unconsciously against the Doctor’s sides, bunching up the fabric of her t-shirts. </p><p>	It was all taking on a strange, dreamlike cast as she drifted, slipping in and out and consciousness. She was woken out of the middle of another true dream, where she rode a bike that was somehow the face of some strange alien, and she clenched around the fingers in her cunt, dutifully riding the crest of her orgasm. She came like she was having a wet dream, and then the tongue was moving lower, licking along her arse, and <i>no</i>, things didn’t go there.</p><p>	Yaz woke up a little more, as what was probably a thumb rubbed over her clit and a tongue probed her arsehole, the fingers inside of her curling. She squirmed and tried to get away, but that tongue just followed, and the fingers with them, and another orgasm was wrung out of her like water from a dishcloth.</p><p>	She sank back into the well of sleep, as the tongue, the fingers, the body between her legs withdrew. The last thing she felt was a kiss pressed to the soft spot under her navel, and an affectionate pat on the inner thigh.</p><p>	“You’ll feel better for that,” said the Doctor’s voice from far off. “Sleep well Yaz.”</p><p>	They’d really have to have a talk, later, about certain human things. Hopefully, she’d even remember to do it when she woke up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sex Pollen, Thirteen/Dhawan!Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor walked along the flat, shrub covered plane, and she tried to ignore the mounting anxiety in the back of her mind. She had found a distress call, and followed it to this strange, empty place. </p><p>	There weren’t any mountains, there weren’t any trees, it was just an endless, ever stretching horizon. It honestly gave her the creeps, and she squinted, looking all around. “If there’s an emergency,” she said into the empty air, “I feel like I’d see it by now.” The great, looming silence seemed to suck the words up, like water down a drain. </p><p>	The planet was much bigger than Earth or Gallifrey, so the horizon seemed to be endlessly far away. It wasn’t hot - the weather was just cool enough that she could appreciate her coat. The plants were brushing along her bare shins, and the sensation was a bit like wading through the tentacles of an especially friendly, if very short alien. It kept raising all the little hairs on the back of her neck. </p><p>	It was getting warmer, as she kept walking. Some of it must have been exertion, although it wasn’t much exertion, all things considered. Why were her hearts beginning to beat faster? She pushed her hair behind her ear, and it was damp with sweat. </p><p>	“Doctor,” called a familiar voice, and it made her stomach drop like a stone. </p><p>	“What are <i>you</i> doing here?” The Doctor spun around, to face her best enemy.</p><p>	The Master smiled at her like a shark, all white teeth. His purple suit seemed to glow in the half light cast by the dim suns overhead. </p><p>	It was beginning to get warm - the spots the plants had brushed her were beginning to itch, and the prickle of sweat dripping down her sides was <i>itchy</i>, as if her nerves were just going off at random. </p><p>	“Oh, you know,” he said, his tone breezy. He stepped closer, and she could fancied she could smell him. She imagined there was the touch of ash from their home, mixed in with the familiar mix of skin and chemicals that made up her best enemy. </p><p>	There was another scent underlying it all, and it was just as <i>itchy</i>, crawling up her nose and settling in her sinuses to prickle, making her sneeze three times in a row. </p><p>	“No,” the Doctor said shortly, “I don’t.” She made to turn around, and he grabbed her arm.</p><p>	Even through her shirts and her coat, it was… a lot. It was warm, solid, and she shivered, freezing in place.</p><p>	“I <i>am</i> in need of some help,” the Master said, and his voice was silky. It was like being rubbed all over with velvet, and oh, why had she thought of that? Her nipples were getting hard, and she clenched around nothing, biting her lip. </p><p>	“You’ve never needed help a day in your life,” the Doctor said, her voice thick. She tried to yank her arm back, but he had moved his hand up further, giving her bicep a squeeze. That at least, seemed to alleviate the itching, and she bit back an embarrassing noise. </p><p>	“You seem to be in need of some help, my dear,” he said, his voice as sweet as anything. </p><p>	“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Doctor choked out.</p><p>	The Master’s hand had moved to trail up over her exposed collarbones, and she shuddered all over, her mouth falling open.</p><p>	“Interesting, isn’t it?” He was keeping his tone laconic. “Something about the pollen around here does… something. Not entirely sure. I’m going to isolate the compound, see if there’s a way for me to use it the next time I take over the Earth.” His hand had moved down, to cup her breast. “That’d be a laugh, wouldn’t it? All those stupid apes, thinking they're above it all as they're reduced to their basic instincts."</p><p>	The Doctor meant to pull away, meant to open her mouth to shout him into the next decade. She moaned instead, and her knees went weak. “W-what did you do to me?” </p><p>	His other hand came into play now, and he was standing close enough that she could have counted his eyelashes. His hands were kneading her breasts, thumbing her nipples, then twisting them. They were obscenely hard through all the layers of clothes, and she hated how <i>good</i> it felt. </p><p>	“I haven’t done a blessed thing,” he said, and he smiled at her and twisted her nipples like they were dials on the TARDIS. She wailed, and she collapsed, dropping to her knees. “There’s something special about the plants around here,” he said, almost idly. He’d let go of her breasts, at least, and now had fingers threaded through her hair. “I don’t know if it has some relation to how our species…” He paused, smirked at her. “Well, I suppose, <i>your</i> species, passed on to me. How it metabolizes it.” She gasped as he gave her hair a yank, forcing her head back. “Really gets the blood boiling, doesn’t it?” Another yank, forcing her further back. “Luckily, I figured out an antidote.”</p><p>	Her eyes flicked down to the bulge in his trousers, right in front of her face. “Really?” Her voice cracked. “Doesn’t seem… like you’ve been antidoted.” Was that a word? Did that matter? </p><p>	She was <i>desperate</i> for stimulation. All the parts of her that weren’t being touched seemed to pulse with desperation, and she longed to… to what? To throw her clothes off and swim in the TARDIS? Wank until she reached some type of satisfaction? Roll in a soft carpet until she could stop feeling each individual nerve going off? </p><p>	“It isn’t perfect,” he said. “Yet,” he added, and then he was using the hand on the back of her head to press her face forward, until his erection was pressed into her cheek, throbbing and hot even through the layers of his trousers, his boxers. </p><p>	She tried to pull away, but he kept her head there. “If you make me come,” he said, all reasonableness, “I’ll let you go.”</p><p>	“You’ll let me go anyway,” she said, and his cock twitched against her cheek. There was a damp spot where it was leaking, and she shivered as it pressed into her cheek.</p><p>	“Are you so sure about that?” He twisted her hair savagely, forcing her head back, and she cried out, her back arching. </p><p>	She didn’t really have a response to that. It was hard to think, with all the blood in her body throbbing through her nipples, her clit, tingling along her back and along her scalp. She wanted to be filled, to be licked, to be <i>taken</i> and to take, wanted -</p><p>	“Be a good girl for me and take it out,” the Master said, grinding his hips into her face again and pulling her out of her thoughts. </p><p>	She hissed at him, narrowing her eyes, and he yanked her hair again, harder this time. </p><p>“Do it,” he snapped. “You’ll feel better for it,” he added, as an afterthought. </p><p>She glared at him, but he was smiling again, and it felt as if his mind was rubbing against her own. When she looked down in front of her, she heard him snickering. She rolled her eyes, and she fumbled with the opening of his trousers, undoing the buttons. She slipped her hand into the front of them and found the heat of him, pulsing in her hand.</p><p>	“Look… at… that,” the Master said, his voice breathless. “Open your mouth.’</p><p>	“You have got to be -” </p><p>	“I <i>said</i>, open your <i>mouth</i>,” he snarled, forcing her head back.</p><p>	The Doctor opened her mouth, because she didn’t have the energy to argue, and there was an uncomfortable satisfaction to the way he shuddered around her. She let him move in and out of her mouth, her tongue lying at the bottom of her mouth like a dead slug, drool dripping down her chin. She let him shove it all the way, sputtering and gasping when he pulled out, and when he looked at her expectantly, she managed to raise an eyebrow. </p><p>	“Are you done?” She asked, and her voice was a rough croak.</p><p>	He made an enraged sound, and he shoved her down onto the ground, descending down on his haunches between her spread legs. </p><p>	“I did this to you,” the Master said, and there was a desperate neediness in his voice as he pulled at her braces, unclipping them from her trousers, then yanking the trousers down. All the spots where they were touching seemed to pulse even more intensely, and she hated herself for how she lifted her hips up for him to get better access, as her boxers and trousers were tossed to the side. </p><p>	<i>I’m still in my coat</i>, she thought distantly, as his wet cock dragged across her inner thigh. <i>I’m going to have to wash everything, this dust is red as anything and seems like it’d get in everything.</i> “I thought it was the plants,” she said, and she was smiling even as she said it. </p><p>	He snarled again - seems the stuff was having an impact after all. There was a moment of discomfort, as he loomed over her - <i>he could kill me like this, and I’d rather not regenerate with no trousers on</i> - and then he shoving her shirt up, his rough face abrading along the delicate skin of her sternum, the sides of her breasts. She shuddered as he bit her, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin, and his tongue was hot and slippery against her nipple. </p><p>	His cock was a wet, sticky smear against her inner thigh. It was hot and velvety as it pressed between her labia, and she groaned as he shoved it inside of her, one long, sweet push. She gasped, clenching around him, and her whole body seemed to convulse around him. She came with a gush and a sob, the pleasure pulsing through her like a set of firecrackers.</p><p>	And it wasn’t enough. She still <i>itching</i>, all over, and the Master’s body on her own was doing… something, calming it down almost, but she was humping back against it, clenching and pulsing around him. He wasn’t even touching her clit, she was just being <i>filled</i>, as his mind pressed against hers, his body in her own.</p><p>	He was driving into her, hard enough to make her breasts shake, and she grasped at his back, dug her nails in and pressed her heels. He’d come out bruised. He just hissed, baring his teeth a few inches away from her face. “Wasn’t that a good start?” </p><p>	She groaned, and he laughed, a fully delighted chuckle, as the itching under her skin started up again, stronger than before. When all this was over, she was going to wash <i>everything</i>, she was going to… she was going to…</p><p>	The Master swiveled his hips, and she moaned, and let the wave of desperation overtake her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mind Control, Yaz/Dhawan!Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She hadn’t been expecting him to just… be there. </p><p>	Yasmin Khan was walking back to the station after her patrol, thinking wistfully about a hot bowl of soup and putting her feet up when she saw him. </p><p>There was the purple suit that glowed like a bruise under the streetlights, the distressing handsome face, the madness glinting through brown eyes like light radiating off a fire. </p><p><i>That's not right,</i> Yaz thought, staring at him with a furrowed brow. <i>I'm not with the Doctor right now, I'm in my normal life. He doesn't show up for my normal life.</i> </p><p>"You're the new pet, aren't you?" His voice still sounded like O's, although the tone and harmonics were all the same. It still made her stomach twist up uncomfortably. </p><p>"What are you doing here?" Yaz put her hands to her belt… or tried her. She didn't seem able to move. </p><p>"Always like to check in on my best enemy's pets while she's away," the Master said, his tone light. "It's what you do when a mate's on vacation. Make sure their mail isn't piling up, water their plants, check in on their animals…" He smiled like a shark, and Yaz’s spine went cold. “So I’m checking up on you.”</p><p>	“I’m not an animal,” Yaz said, and her hands were clenched into fists, so hard her knuckles were starting to creak. </p><p>	“You are compared to us,” said the Master. He took a step towards her, and she took a step back.</p><p>	He tsked. “None of that,” he said, and there was a sensation of something being pushed into her mind, smothering some part of her like a fire. When he took his next step forward, she couldn’t move. </p><p>	“I’m not afraid of you,” said Yaz, and her voice only shook a little bit. </p><p>	“Liar,” the Master yelled, and he was shouting <i>right in her face</i>, which was exceedingly unpleasant. </p><p>	<i>Look at me, being all calm in the face of all of this</i>, thought Yaz, although she was still trembling. </p><p>	“I’m in your head,” the Master said, and he tapped her temple with his index finger. “I can feel what you’re feeling.”</p><p>	“Fuck off,” Yaz said, which wasn’t much of a response, but she couldn’t think of anything else. </p><p>	The Master snorted. “You’re not as articulate as her other little pets,” he told her. He began to walk away from her. Then her own feet were moving, and she was following after him, despite all her muscles screaming for her to <i>stop</i>.</p><p>	“What are you doing to me?” Yaz’s voice shook. Each step seemed to send a jolt up her back, straight to her skull, and she was aware of her body, as if he was feeling it himself. The jiggle of her breasts, the weight of her hips, the softness of her thighs. She was a collection of meat and electricity, held together with bones. </p><p>	His disdain towards her seemed to drip out of her pores, and she just wanted to <i>scrub</i>, to purge him from her mind like a bad meal. They were walking towards his TARDIS, that little house she had slept in back in Australia, and when he opened the door, she just… walked in. </p><p>	The floorboards creaked under her feet, and her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dimness when she stepped inside. The door slamming made her jump, but she couldn’t move otherwise, and she was stuck just standing in front of the door, watching the Master go to the console of his TARDIS.</p><p>	He piloted the same way the Doctor did, darting around, pulling this lever, pressing down on that button. Something about it made her chest hurt, and then there was an itchy, ticklish sensation on her cheek. </p><p>	<i>Am I crying?</i></p><p>	“So,” said the Master, and he brought his hands together, looking incredibly, unpleasantly smug, “where were we.”</p><p>	“Where are we?” Yaz asked. She couldn’t look out the window - she could tell her body to move, but it <i>wouldn’t</i>.</p><p>	“Just floating in the Time Vortex,” the Master said. He sat down, looking Yaz up and down. Even in her stab vest, her uniform trousers, her fluorescent vest, she felt <i>naked</i>. “The Doctor always did like a pretty pet. Although you don’t have as much spunk as some of the last ones.” He snapped his fingers. “Strip.”</p><p>	“I will <i>not</i>,” Yaz said, as her hands rose up to the zipper of her fluorescent vest, pulling it down and shrugging out of it. It puddled around her like a discarded scarf, and her radio madea  slightly unsettling <i>clunk</i> noise.</p><p>	“She’s had other pets that could resist me better,” the Master said. His eyes were still on her, as she unzipped her coat and shrugged out of that too. She was in her white shirtsleeves now, and she hated the way he looked at her. </p><p>	She didn’t have anything to say to that. She was screaming inside, as she bent down to unlace her boots and kick them off, then pull her socks off. </p><p>	“One of them could even fully resist me, can you believe it? Shouted her ridiculous name at me, and that was the end of that. ” He was leaning forward, looking at her with interest as more of her body was revealed. </p><p>	“You’re not going to get away with this,” Yaz said, as she unbuckled her belt. She hated how her hands were just… doing things, without her permission. It was like she was stuck in her own body. </p><p>	“I will,” the Master said, his tone jovial. “Off with the rest of it, I haven’t got all day.”</p><p>	She grabbed her shirt, pulling it up and off. Her sports bra went with it, and then she was standing there naked, shivering in the cold air. Her nipples were getting hard, and the rest of her body seemed to be one big goosebump. </p><p>	“Now,” said the Master, “come here.” </p><p>	“No,” said Yaz, as she padded forward on her bare feet. The floorboards were cold, and his gaze was entirely too heated. She stopped in front of him, her knees pressing into his, and she hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life. </p><p>	“You’re pretty,” he said, and he grabbed her breast casually, weighing it in his hand and thumbing the nipple. “That’s not a surprise, she always takes the pretty ones.” </p><p>	“Are you just trying to upset me?” Yaz kept her voice calm, as he twisted her nipple.</p><p>	“I don’t care what you feel,” the Master said, and his tone was almost… mild, especially compared to the way his voice usually sounded. His eyes were on her breasts now, and his other hand was going to her inner thigh. “Has the Doctor fucked you yet?’</p><p>	“The Doctor doesn’t -” Yaz started to say, and then, unbidden; “no.”</p><p>	“You want her to, don’t you?” The Master’s eyes were on hers, and she couldn’t look away.</p><p>	“Yes,” Yaz said, but she didn’t want to say it, she didn’t want to say <i>anything</i> to him. He was controlling her, somehow. Some kind of Time Lord bullshit. </p><p>	“She isn’t going to,” the Master said, his tone savage. “She doesn’t fuck her pets.”</p><p>	He was doing… something to her mind, something that was making her wet between the legs, something that made the little twists of his fingers on her nipples that much more intense, drawing the tension inside of her tighter and tighter. </p><p>	Yaz squealed when the Master’s fingers pressed into her, trying to get up on her tiptoes to get away but unable to move as he held her fast. </p><p>	“She does <i>not</i> know what she’s missing,” the Master said, his tone full of admiration. “Lovely cunt you’ve got here, sweetheart. Velvety and hot, I can feel you clench.” He rubbed her clit with his thumb, and the crash of pleasure was like a cosh to the back of the head. “I’ll put the good word in for you the next time we see each other, as a favor,” he said, and his finger twisted. Then he was adding another, and how was she wet enough that it was able to happen?</p><p>	Yaz stood there and just… took it. He was holding her fast, keeping her in place with some kind of strange mind control that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Was this a thing that the Doctor would be able to do? How would she feel, if the Doctor had decided to just start touching her like this?</p><p>	The Master didn’t seem particularly interested in what he was doing - he just touched her as if he was <i>bored</i>, curling and thrusting his fingers, using his thumb on her clit as if he was using a video game controller. “I don’t know what she sees in you lot,” he said, as if he was thinking out loud. “Only one heart, don’t regenerate, only one brain…” The thumb on her clit pressed down <i>hard</i> and a little desperate noise crawled out of her throat like a maggot.</p><p>	“Stop,” Yaz mumbled.</p><p>	“No,” said the Master, then; “might as well make this more interesting.” He let go of her breast, thumbing his buttons open. He pulled his cock free, squeezing it, and he sighed. “Well?”</p><p>	“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yaz said stiffly. She clenched desperately around nothing as his fingers were withdrawn, it had been lovely, to be so full, and she hated it with every iota of her being. </p><p>	“Of course you don’t, sweetheart,” the Master said. He used his damp fingers to stroke himself to full hardness, and she hated how much she wanted to get on her knees and take it into her mouth, wanted to feel it in her hands. </p><p>	“Stop it,” she said, trying to make her voice sharp. </p><p>	“I’m not doing anything,” the Master said, and he was clearly lying, since now she was climbing into his lap, and <i>how</i> was she climbing into his lap? The head of his cock was sticky, mixing in with the wetness of her cunt. </p><p>	“You are,” Yaz said, and she gasped as he lifted her hips up. Her own hand was moving against her will, taking his cock in her hand to hold it upright. She guided it into herself, and then he let go of her, and he was inside of her. </p><p>	He was <i>thick</i>, hot and heavy and solid inside of her. She’d only ever done this with one other person before, and this was so different. She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about any of this. </p><p>	“Oh, she’s… going to wish she still had a cock, when I tell her how good you feel inside,” the Master panted. “Hold on to my shoulders, pet.”</p><p>	“No,” Yaz said, but she was clutching at the shoulders of his coat, as he began to thrust up into her. It hurt, just a little bit, and the little bits of pain seemed to be sending more shocks of arousal through her. She clenched and trembled around him, as his hands went to her breast. He ducked his head down to suck at her nipples, and she cried out again.</p><p>	<i>Good girl</i>, said a thought that wasn’t her own, and then some pleasure center inside of her seemed to be jammed, and she was coming around the Master’s cock in waves and waves, leaving her wrung out as he kept thrusting. </p><p>	“You’re a good pet,” the Master murmured into her breast, and he kissed her sternum. “She’ll be disappointed to know that I got to you first.” Another hip wiggle. “I’ll just drop you off at her… TARDIS when I’ve… finished.” His cock flexed inside of her, and she let herself just be carried by it. She could exist a little to the right of herself, as she was fucked by this madman from the stars.</p><p>	The Doctor would make it better. She would. Yaz knew it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As soon as I saw this prompt, I ended up thinking about Peri. I still remember Peri resisting hypnotism by shouting at the Master. Although wow is Perpugilian Brown a name.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bondage, Missy/Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I knew Missy was gonna weasel her way in here at some point.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor was tied to a pillar when the person she least wanted to see strolled by.</p>
<p>	Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. There were probably people who she wanted to see less than Missy, in a situation like this. Maybe one of those Olidiffon, who sweated out acid and exhaled methane. Or Yaz’s mum, this whole scrape would be difficult to explain to her. </p>
<p>	But seeing Missy walking in, like a Victorian governess taking her charge out on a stroll that just happened to go through an old spaceship on the way to the park. </p>
<p>	“Well now, what do we have here?” Missy was smiling, and she was holding that ghastly umbrella of hers, smiling like a fin in the water. </p>
<p>	“I could say the same thing,” the Doctor said, trying to keep her tone mild as she shifted, her shoulders already starting to ache from the strain of having her arms tied over her head. “You don’t look like the locals.” <i>Maybe she doesn’t recognize me.</i></p>
<p>	“I never do,” Missy said absently. “Funny how they manage to have handcuffs for one pair of hands, even though they’ve naturally got three, isn’t it?” Missy leaned in close, until the Doctor could smell the musk and violets of her perfume. “I know it’s you,” she added.</p>
<p>	“Well, of course I’m me,” the Doctor said, because she didn’t want to <i>think</i> about what she was doing to her own time stream just by talking to Missy like this.</p>
<p>	“Doctor,” Missy said, and then she was grasping the Doctor’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet, “I’m not in the mood for games.”</p>
<p>	The Doctor sighed. “How’d you know?” She probably should have kept the charade up a little longer, but she was tired and sore, and this go ‘round she wasn’t very good at subterfuge. </p>
<p>	“I’d know you anywhere,” Missy said, casual as anything. She turned the Doctor’s face this way and that, examining her face critically. “So finally went in for the upgrade, did you?”</p>
<p>	“Something like that,” the Doctor said. </p>
<p>	“More youthful than eyebrows,” Missy said, and the fingers of her other hand brushed over the Doctor’s current set of eyebrows. “Pity. You could’ve taken bottle caps off with the old set.”</p>
<p>	“I don’t suppose you’ll let me out,” the Doctor said, rattling the handcuffs keeping her arms over her head. </p>
<p>	“Nah,” Missy said, and she sounded distracted. Her hand moved down, to trace the line of the Doctor’s nose, pressing down on the Doctor’s lower lip, then into the Doctor's mouth. The pad of her finger was salty against the Doctors’ tongue, and the pressure it was exerting made her open her mouth. </p>
<p>	“Why not?" The Doctor's voice was garbled, and she didn't like the way Missy's eyes were glinting. </p>
<p>"Haven't had a chance to give the upgrade a proper look over, have I?" Missy's other hand had gone to the Doctor's breast, squeezing it, her thumb on the nipple. </p>
<p>"You look with your eyes," the Doctor told Missy, trying to squirm away. </p>
<p>"That is true," Missy agreed, letting go on the Doctor's person. The momentary relief was taken away by the annoyance, when Missy unhooked her braces.</p>
<p>"Is this really <i>necessary</i>?" The Doctor really wished her voice would stop shaking. </p>
<p>"I've always been a nosy one," Missy said absently. "Don't you want to share with your best enemy?"</p>
<p>"Not particularly, no," the Doctor said flatly. </p>
<p>	“Well, I’m in a sharing mood,” Missy said breezily, and she shoved the Doctor’s shirt up, taking the sports bra with it. “Would you look at these,” she said, taking one in each hand and jiggling. “Mine are bigger,” she added, smug as anything.</p>
<p>	“D’you have to turn everything into a competition?” The Doctor tried to hide her discomfort, shifting away on her tiptoes. The pillar against her back was disturbingly solid, and she wrinkled her nose as Missy thumbed her nipples, twisting them. </p>
<p>	“Naturally,” said Missy. “Didn’t used to bother you, back in the day.” She pinched the Doctor’s nipples savagely, and the Doctor hissed through her teeth, trying to twist away. </p>
<p>	“Back in the day,” the Doctor gritted out, “I didn’t want to tell you how tedious it was and hurt your feelings.”</p>
<p>	Missy scowled, and then the scowl was smoothed away. “Don’t lie, poppet, it’ll give you wrinkles.” She yanked on the Doctor’s nipples, and the Doctor bit her lip to keep from making any especially embarrassing noise. It wouldn’t do for her captors to show up, with Missy in the room. </p>
<p>	“N-n-never heard that one,” the Doctor panted. She squirmed, pressing her thighs together, and Missy chuckled. </p>
<p>	“Getting much mileage out of the new set up?” Missy’s hands squeezed the Doctor’s breasts like they were stress balls, and the Doctor bit back a howl. “No, I don’t think so.” She let go of the Doctor’s breasts, and her hand went to the waistband of the Doctor’s trousers. </p>
<p>	“This isn’t necessary, Missy,” the Doctor said, and she tried to sound firm. She didn’t sound upset, at least. Mostly, she just sounded tired.</p>
<p>	“Au contraire,” Missy said, and she gave a big, juicy wink, like a cartoon character. She was on her knees now, right in front of the Doctor. “You’ve got this lovely new body, and you’ve not even used it for anything fun yet, have you?’</p>
<p>	“Done loads of fun things,” the Doctor said. The cold air on her inner thighs made her wince, and then her boxers were down as well, around her ankles. <i>I’d be worried that I can’t run away, but I couldn’t run away before, either</i>, mumbled some faintly hysterical part of her mind. She hadn’t realized she could get hysterical. That was exciting to learn. </p>
<p>	“Oh, isn’t that <i>sweet</i>?” Missy’s breath was ruffling the Doctors’ pubic hair, and one red nailed finger ruffled the blond curls. “You’re simply adorable like this, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>	The Doctor rolled her eyes. “Are you done?” She stared down at Missy, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>	Missy raised her own eyebrow, and she kept the eye contact as she leaned forward. She ran her tongue along the length of the Doctor’s slit, and the Doctor shuddered convulsively. “Haven’t let any of your new pets in here yet, have you?” Missy’s tone was conversational. </p>
<p>	“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” the Doctor said thickly. </p>
<p>	“We both know that isn’t true,” Missy said, as chipper as a picnic on a Saturday morning. “Oh, look at that.” She pressed a little kiss to the Doctor’s clit, and the Doctor curled forward, her eyes squeezing shut and her mouth falling open. </p>
<p>	“Stop it, Missy,” the Doctor said, trying to be firm, mostly sounding tired. She bit back a moan as Missy’s tongue traced over her clit, and she sagged back against the pillar as Missy’s head tilted back, her tongue working between the Doctor’s labia, then swirling over the Doctor’s clit.</p>
<p>	<i>You don’t want me to stop</i>, said Missy, her voice an echo against the barriers of the Doctor’s mind. <i>We both know you’d be out of here in an instant if you really wanted to be.</i></p>
<p>	That might have been true, if she had her arms free. Or if Missy’s infernal mouth would just <i>stop</i>, so that she could think. She didn’t have a lot of experience with this kind of pleasure, didn’t have much experience with doing much with this body beyond inhabiting it. She’d been meaning to get around to trying that, but something always came up in the meantime.</p>
<p>	And. </p>
<p>	Well. </p>
<p>	There was a blunt pressure, and then Missy’s finger was sliding inside of her, and Missy was sucking noisily on her clit. </p>
<p>	The Doctor hissed, keeping her eyes shut, and Missy’s finger twisted inside of her. A finger from Missy’s other hand was pressing against her arse, and she made an embarrassing whimpering noise.</p>
<p>	“Need to do a proper comparison,” Missy said, as she twisted the finger in the Doctor’s cunt and the finger in the Doctor’s arse. “Since this is new,” she wriggled the finger in the Doctor’s cunt, “and this is familiar territory.”</p>
<p>	The Doctor bared her teeth, panting. Her nipples were hard in the cold air, and her orgasm was on the very edge of her senses. She really hated the way Missy was grinning up at her, like the cat that got the cream. </p>
<p>	<i>Horrible analogy at a time like this</i>, she thought, and then she groaned, a long, gut shot sound as Missy began to suck on her clit again. She came, clenching around the two intrusions, yanking at the bonds holding her arms up. She sagged back against the pillar as the sick pleasure curdled like bad milk in her guts, and then she was hit with another, as Missy curled her fingers, sucking and licking with wet slurping sounds.</p>
<p>	By the time Missy came up for air, the Doctor’s knees were shaking, and her thighs were sticky with it. She sighed in relief when Missy pulled away. </p>
<p>	“Much better than the old set up in certain respects,” Missy almost <i>purred</i>, looking as smug as ever. She grabbed the Doctor’s jaw with one damp hand, and she endured a wet, slimy kiss that tasted of her own cunt, salt and musk and entropy. </p>
<p>	There was a sound from behind the cage door, and then Missy pulled back, grinning. “Seems that we have some company,” she said, and she gave another big, theatrical wink. “I’ll go take care of them, shall I?”</p>
<p>	<i>I need to tell her not to kill them</i>, the Doctor thought, as she stood pressed against the pillar with her tits out and her trousers around her ankles. She closed her eyes, catching her breath as her hearts beat desperately in her chest. <i>Let me just get my bearings, and I’ll be back to my old self. No time at all.</i></p>
<p>	She allowed herself a moment to feel… whatever it was she was feeling. She’d deal with it later, the way she dealt with everything else, but she allowed herself the single moment to sob. And then she opened her eyes again. </p>
<p>	Time to get to business.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Crying, Missy/Yaz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is going to be a little more... intense than the other ones. There's flat out emotional cruelty. Consider this the "here be dragons" sign.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz did not like Missy within five minutes of meeting her.</p>
<p>	Possibly sooner than that - she’d had a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach when she’d come into the console room and seen the woman in the purple suit arguing with the Doctor. </p>
<p>	“It’s better I’m in here causing mischief than out there causing mischief,” she had been saying. “What’s that old adage? Better I’m in here pissing out than out there pissing in. Although it’s harder to do with the set up. Not impossible! Have you given it a try?”</p>
<p>	And the Doctor had thrown her hands in the air, turned around, and had told Yaz to go back to her room while she dealt with “this mess.”</p>
<p>	Yaz had begun to walk down the hallway, only to hear “so the new pet is more obedient than the last one, then?” and had immediately bristled. </p>
<p>	She hadn’t turned around, though - she recognized that particular look on the Doctor’s face, the glint in her eye. She trusted the Doctor when it came to danger. </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>Yaz woke up in her bed, heart beating desperately, trembling. She was in that place again, that horrible realm, all alone, the Doctor gone, nothing but empty, dank space all around her, just -</p>
<p>"The last one wasn't such a whiner," said a voice in the dark, and Yaz bolted upright, thrashing around. There was another body on the bed, how was there another body on the bed?</p>
<p>Yaz found the switch for her bedside light and turned it on, blinking as the golden glow filled the small room like honey in a glass. </p>
<p>The woman in the purple suit was lying beside Yaz on top of the covers, perfectly made up. She looked like a Victorian dominatrix, or like one of the characters off the cover of some steam punk novel she'd have read when she was a kid. </p>
<p>"Get out of my room," Yaz said, and her voice only shook a little bit. She had kicked the covers off at some point in her sleep, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the cold air on her bare thighs, her skimpy sleep shorts not leaving much to the imagination. The strap of her tank top was trailing down, and she caught Missy’s eyes tracking it. </p>
<p>	“It’s hardly <i>your</i> room, now is it?” The woman leaned in, hooking a finger under the other strap to push it down. “It’s the Doctor’s TARDIS. Just because she’s given you a nice little doggy bed doesn't mean that it’s yours, pet.” </p>
<p>	Yaz shoved her hand away. “Get out of my room,” she repeated, with more force.</p>
<p>	“Puppy has teeth,” the woman said, and she sounded pleased. She moved closer, right into Yaz’s personal space, and she was smiling. Her lipstick looked like a slash across her face, and her eyes glittered in the dark. “What’s frightened you, pet? Come now, you can tell Missy.”</p>
<p>	“Get out of my room,” Yaz repeated again, but she was still so <i>tired</i>, and the shreds of the nightmare were clinging to her like bits of cobweb. </p>
<p>	“Yes, yes,” said the woman - Missy? - and she waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s find out what’s going on in that head of yours, shall we?” She pressed a finger to Yaz’s temple, and then there was the sensation of… someone in Yaz’s head. </p>
<p>	“No,” Yaz said, her voice thick, as her memories, her thoughts, her dreams were ruffled through like a pack of cards.</p>
<p>	“You <i>fancy</i> her,” said Missy, when Yaz’s ears had stopped ringing. The finger had left her temple, and now there was a hand holding her jaw, forcing her to look Missy in the face. “She’ll never feel like that for you, you know that, right?”</p>
<p>	“Let go of me,” Yaz said, but she couldn’t seem to move. Missy’s eyes were holding her captive. </p>
<p>	“She’s had other little pets,” Missy said, her tone idle. She shifted, bringing one hand down to grope Yaz’s breast. “The last one died for her, did she tell you that?” She was sitting up now, crouching between Yaz’s legs. </p>
<p>	“Stop it,” Yaz said, and she wasn’t sure if she meant the touching or the words coming out of Missy’s mouth. </p>
<p>	“Of course she wouldn’t mention it,” Missy said, and she rolled her eyes. She shoved the neck of Yaz’s tank top down, and she made an appreciative noise when Yaz’s nipple was bared to the air. “Oh, very nice. I can see why she keeps you around. She’ll daydream about these and then she’ll go fiddle with the TARDIS and feel guilty about being interested in her little pet.” </p>
<p>	<i>I need to kick her out</i>, Yaz thought. <i>I’m going to do that. I’m going to count down and then I’m going to kick her out and march off into the Doctor’s console room and tell her just how much of a creep her friend is, I’m - </i></p>
<p>	“If it comes down to you or me, it’ll always be me,” Missy said, her tone blithe as she twisted Yaz’s nipples like they were radio dials. Yaz couldn’t get any sound to come out of her throat, as more tears dripped down the sides of her face, to puddle along her collarbone. “I’ve known her for longer than your puny little civilization has existed, and you think she’d choose <i>you</i> over me?” </p>
<p>	“The Doctor is a good person,” Yaz managed to gasp out, which probably wasn’t what she should have said. She wasn’t sure what she should have said, to make Missy leave her alone, or to make the Doctor come running. This wasn’t it. </p>
<p>	Missy threw her head back and <i>laughed</i>, and it was such a friendly, cheerful sound. It invited you to join in, and that made Yaz’s stomach churn, as much as Missy’s nails raking across her sternum made her skin prickle, her toes curling. </p>
<p>	“Oh, sweetheart,” Missy said, and her tone was so condescending that Yaz wanted to slap her, except she couldn’t seem to make her limbs move. One of Missy’s hands went to her face, cupping her cheek. She pressed down on Yaz’s cheekbone, and then she wrinkled her nose. “The last one wasn’t so lacrimosal, either,” she said. “Or the one before that. And <i>that</i> one was apparently his - sorry, her now - soulmate or some other kind of nonsense.” She smeared Yaz’s tears across Yaz’s cheek, as more dripped down her face. </p>
<p>	Yaz didn’t have an answer to that. “Don’t,” she said, when one of Missy’s horrible, clever fingers pressed against her vulva through the thin pajama shorts. </p>
<p>	“What have you even <i>done</i> for her?” Missy’s thumb found Yaz’s clit with pinpoint accuracy, rolling over it.</p>
<p>	Yaz made an embarrassing noise, and her hips tried to move, but she was still held fast with whatever odd mind control Missy had put on her. </p>
<p>	“The last one died for her,” Missy said idly, as she pushed her hand up the pajama shorts. “The one before that was the soulmate. She rescued the Doctor throughout all of her timeline, lived in a million places at once, shattered herself into itty little bits.” She was pressing against Yaz’s bare now, her thumb on Yaz’s clit and her index fingers pressing between Yaz’s labia, ruffling her pubic hair. “And the ones before that… well, one of them was her mother in law.” Missy pinched Yaz’s nipple and shoved her fingers into Yaz’s cunt. “Oh, broke the seal. Always love doing that.” She twisted her fingers, her thumb rotating carefully over Yaz’s clit. </p>
<p>	Yaz was sobbing now, and she couldn’t seem to <i>stop</i>. She was numb, except for the sick, eerie pleasure that seemed to be making its way through her like oil soaking through water. “Stop it,” she gasped, as Missy’s fingers began to piston in and out of her, too hard and too fast. It <i>burned</i>, but she was clenching tight all around them. </p>
<p>	“She didn’t tell you about her wife, did she?” Another finger added, so many that Yaz was half afraid she’d split. “And the one before <i>that</i>, well…” Missy smiled cruelly. “Had to wipe her mind like a blackboard. All those memories… gone like that.” She gave a savage twist, and Yaz gave a little whimper, as the tears kept flowing out of her eyes, dripping out of her nose. “The one before that, the Woman Who Walked the Earth, she saved her - well, him at that point. Saved the Doctor, ruined <i>all</i> my plans…” Missy grew agitated, fucking Yaz harder, and then she seemed to relax again, putting on that horrible smile. </p>
<p>	“There’ll always be more people than me,” Yaz gasped out. “She’s… old. Stop it, take it out take it <i>out</i>!”</p>
<p>	“And miss all the fireworks?” Missy gave another twist, and she was pressing down on something sensitive inside of Yaz, something that made Yaz’s eyes roll back in her head.</p>
<p>	“And the one before <i>that</i>, the Doctor regenerated to save her. Can you believe that? Destroyed the Dalek emperor, took in the whole of the TARDIS, and y’know what?” More pistoning, more rubbing, twisting, pinching. All of Yaz’s tender, delicate spots seemed to be getting mauled, and she hated just how much she <i>liked</i> it. </p>
<p>	“The Doctor didn’t love any of them, not the way they wanted to be loved,” Missy said. “And you’ve not done anything half so amazing. She’ll never love you.” She did… something, there was pressure against Yaz’s mind that broke like a plate as she came, like a log doused in wood catching flame. She gasped and sobbed her way through her orgasm, and the she moaned as Missy’s fingers rubbed across her face, smearing tears and her own slick across her cheeks.</p>
<p>	“Now,” Missy said briskly, “let’s keep this our little secret, shall we? She always gets <i>so</i> cross with me when I play with her little pets.” She pressed a kiss to Yaz’s forehead, hands at Yaz’s temples - when had she sat up, and how was Yaz losing time like this? - and then everything was going dark.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>	When Yaz woke up, her pillow was soaked with tears, her cheeks sticky with it. That was less confusing than the delicate soreness between her legs. When she went to wash her face, she found her eyes red in the mirror. She splashed cold water on them, and then she went to get dressed for breakfast.</p>
<p>	Hopefully that horrible woman would be gone. She wasn’t sure why thinking about that shade of purple made her stomach twist up like that, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she had to put up a brave front for the Doctor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Breeding, Dhawan!Master/Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Today's prompt is "breeding" and it is an AU! This is another especially rough one, so proceed with caution.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why yes, I did read <i>The Hellbound Heart</i> at a formative age, why do you ask?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thea Smith sat in front of the doctors’ desk, and she tried not to fidget. The man across the desk from her was the spitting image of her husband, but through a warped mirror. There was a softness to Omar that Oscar lacked, a sweetness that seemed to have been scorched by whatever drove Oscar forward.</p><p>“So,” said her husband’s twin, “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you here.”</p><p>	<i>What is this, a murder mystery?</i> “I had a feeling it was because you’ve been our fertility doctor,” Thea said, keeping her tone calm. Something about Oscar always got under her skin, and she had a feeling that he knew it. Her husband had insisted on going to him, when they had been having trouble conceiving, and now… well, here she was. </p><p>	“Well done you,” he said, and he smiled at her, his teeth very white and his eyes very dark. “My brother is sterile.”</p><p>	Thea blinked. “What?”</p><p>	“Sterile,” Oscar repeated, and he rested his elbows on the desk, looking her in the eye with a directness that made her stomach twist. “He’s shooting blanks. He won’t ever knock you up, short of the kind of miracle that’s a few degrees above Jesus showing up on your toast.”</p><p>	Thea’s chest tightened up, and there was a heated pressure building behind her eyes. “How?”</p><p>	“He got the mumps, back when we were in college,” said Oscar. “His own fault, the idiot decided to go visit a cousin who’d been sick and refused to vaccinate.” He rubbed his hands together. </p><p>	“Oh,” said Thea. Her throat was thick, and tears seemed to be dripping out of her nose. When had that happened?</p><p>	“I’m sure you can adopt,” Oscar said, and his tone was almost obnoxiously cheerful. “You are, of course, in the best of health and a good age for childbearing.” </p><p>	She nodded mutely. </p><p>	“But Omar is against adoption, if I recall correctly,” Oscar said, and his tone was almost casual. Another twist of the knife. “I remember him saying he’d rather be childless than raise someone who wasn’t his own blood.”</p><p>	Thea kept staring at her hands. </p><p>	“And you, of course, have mentioned many times that you’d like to be a mother.” Oscar drummed his fingers on the desk. “So there are a few options here.”</p><p>	Thea looked at him through her wet eyelashes, trying to quiet the thud in her ears. “Not really,” she said. Her voice sounded stuffy and flat to her own ears, over her desperately beating heart. “I’m not going to be a mother.”</p><p>	“You could adopt and just not tell Omar,” Oscar said, ticking it off on his fingers. “That seems like a daft idea, but I’m sure you could think up some madcap scheme to make it work.”</p><p>	She glared at him, some of the old discomfort climbing up out of her throat.</p><p>	“You could resign yourself to never being a mother, and quietly grow to resent my brother for the rest of your days,” Oscar continued.</p><p>	Thea couldn’t imagine that. She loved Omar to distraction.</p><p>	“You could divorce Omar and go on your merry way to find someone who <i>isn’t</i> sterile,” Oscar continued. </p><p>	“No,” Thea said, and she was surprised at the fervency in her voice. “I love him.”</p><p>	“Which leads to my next suggestion,” Omar said, and his voice was smooth as silk and twice as oily. “Have you considered a donor?” </p><p>	“He wouldn’t want to raise someone else’s blood, remember?” Thea’s voice was numb. “He’s a lovely, wonderful man, but once he’s got an idea in his head he can’t seem to let it go. He’s like a dog with a bone.”</p><p>	She sighed,scrubbing her face with both hands. </p><p>	“The donor could be his blood,” Oscar said, and his tone was almost… idle. As if he was thinking out loud. </p><p>	Thea frowned, looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>	“Me,” Oscar clarified. “The donor could be me.”</p><p>	“What,” said Thea, because… well, how was she supposed to respond to that? </p><p>	“We’re identical twins,” Oscar said, as if he was talking to someone who wasn’t very smart. “So it would be his blood. Nobody would ever have to know.” </p><p>	“That’s preposterous,” Thea said. “Inappropriate.”</p><p>	“You’ll have your baby,” Oscar countered. “The sweet, adorable baby that will look <i>just</i> like my brother, so he won’t be the wiser. Genetically, it’ll be identical.”</p><p>	“Is this why you told me to come alone?” Thea’s voice was flat again, flat and numb. </p><p>	“I didn’t think he’d be entirely up for the idea, no,” Oscar said. </p><p>	“And.. he’d never have to find out?” Thea couldn’t believe she was even agreeing to this. </p><p>	“We’d both be out of luck if he found out,” Oscar said. “I’d never tell. The two of us are in a pact, if we do it.”</p><p>	“How d’you know you’re not sterile?” </p><p>	“I checked,” Oscar said, as if that was a totally normal thing to say.</p><p>	“<i>What</i>?” Why did that, specifically, come off as so shocking? </p><p>	“When I found out he was sterile,” said Oscar, “I made sure that I wasn’t.” </p><p>	<i>What, were you planning on this situation?</i> “Oh,” said Thea.</p><p>	“I’m perfectly viable,” Oscar continued, almost cheerful as he said it. “Nobody would ever know.”</p><p>	“How do I know you won’t want to go all… parental? Make a claim?”</p><p>	Oscar wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like children,” he said. </p><p>	“So why become a fertility doctor?” His hands were still drumming on the table - there was always an anxious energy about him, a jitteriness that always left her on edge. </p><p>	“I can not like kids and still know I can make a pretty penny,” Oscar said idly. ‘And besides… there are other perks.” </p><p>	He didn’t elaborate. She didn’t ask him to.</p><p>	Thea took a deep breath, and she sighed gustily. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll do it. You can… you can be the donor.”</p><p>	“I had a feeling you’d see reason,” said Oscar. “Go into the exam room,” he added, “I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished getting ready.” </p><p>	<i>Getting ready</i>, she thought. <i>He means wank into a cup, doesn’t he?</i> She didn’t want to think about that. </p><p>	“What do you need me to do?” Thea asked. </p><p>	“Undress,” he said, “put your feet in the stirrups. You’ve had this kind of exam before, same idea.” </p><p>	“Right,” Thea said, nearly inaudible. “Thank you.” </p><p>	“Anything for my dear brother,’ Oscar said, in that same oily, silky voice, and Thea’s stomach twisted once again. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	Thea lay on the table, her feet in the stirrups, staring straight up at the ceiling. She was trying not to think about this. Did this count as infidelity? Cuckoldry? Was she cheating, or was it something else?</p><p>	Thea tried not to jump when the door opened, then closed. <i>I wonder if they have an official medical device for this sort of thing, or if it’s just a turkey baster?</i> She was very desperately not thinking about what she was doing. About what she was about to do. She could, in theory, walk away, pretend that none of this ever happened, change out of the flimsy medical gown and go off into - </p><p>	A cold hand touched her cunt. There was something sticky smeared on it, and she hissed. “What are you -”</p><p>	“It’s just lubricant,” he said briskly, as his fingers slid inside of her. “You need to relax.” </p><p>	“I’m trying,” she said through clenched teeth.</p><p>	“Try harder,’ he said, and then his thumb was rubbing over her clit, gentle little half circles. </p><p>	“Oscar,” Thea said, and her voice cracked. “What are you -”</p><p>	“Aids conception,” he said, his voice bland. </p><p>	<i>He’s not wearing gloves</i>, she realized, as his warm thumb continued to rotate over her clit. <i>He’s touching me with his bare hands.</i></p><p>	“Oscar,” Thea began to say, and he pressed down on her clit again, a little harder. Almost painful, and it was just the way that she liked, the way that Omar still had trouble getting sometimes. </p><p>	“Do you want this baby or not?” The fingers inside of her were pumping, in and out in a steady rhythm. She clenched around them, and he hissed through his teeth, and began to rub her clit a little harder. </p><p>	“I do,” Thea mumbled. “I want the baby, I just…”</p><p>	“You just what?” The fingers inside of her spread, pressed down on her g-spot, and she trembled. She would have closed her thighs, but he was standing between her legs. </p><p>	“I feel like…” She trailed off. “This doesn’t seem right.”</p><p>	“The ends justify the means,” he said. “It will be his blood, after all. He’ll raise it.” His fingers began to move faster.</p><p>	“D’you need to do that?” Thea’s voice was going high pitched, and it cracked when he did… something.</p><p>	“Orgasm aids conception,” he repeated, and then he was pulling his fingers out. </p><p>	“But I haven’t come yet,” she said, and she hated how <i>whiny</i> she sounded, how desperate.</p><p>	There was a clink, and she froze. Full on froze, lying on that table and listening to the rasp of her brother in law pulling his zip down. </p><p>	The head of his cock was wet and silky against her labia, and his lab coat was very smooth against her inner thighs. He pushed himself inside of her in one long, smooth thrust, and her traitorous cunt clenched and squeezed around it greedily. </p><p>	She’d been having sex lately, methodical, straightforward baby making sex. She was ovulating, she’d been tracking that, and Omar had been on top of her this morning, panting and moaning in her ear as he pumped his hips, his cock thick and familiar inside of her.</p><p>	Oscar’s cock felt the same, but would she have been able to tell? It was a blunt, hot pressure in her, moving in and out.</p><p>	“You’re going to have a lovely baby,” Oscar said, and she looked up into his face. His teeth were bared, and he was <i>grinning</i>, smiling in a way that shouldn’t have made her cunt clench around him like that. </p><p>	Thea didn’t say anything, as his cock worked inside of her, his thumb still on her clit. It was still impersonal, with her feet up in stirrups, in the flimsy gown. He was almost silent, his breathing getting a little heavier, and then her orgasm hit her, like a knife to the kidneys.</p><p>	Thea came around the cock inside of her, shuddering and gasping, squeezing it tight as she was overtaken by the pleasure. Her eyes popped open, and she found Oscar staring into her face, wearing a smile that belonged on something with sharper teeth. He was beginning to grunt with each thrust, a rough noise from the back of his head, and he was still rubbing her clit, little figure eights with the pad of his thumb.</p><p>	He leaned over her, his hair wild and his eyes squeezing shut, and then he shoved himself all the way inside, as deep as he could get. “My brother’s been holding out on me,” he said, and his voice was rough. It didn’t sound like a doctor’s voice anymore. He held on to her inner thigh, hard enough to bruise, and he groaned, long and hard. “This may be the sweetest pussy I’ve fucked,” he said, and his voice went down half an octave, as his cock began to pulse inside of her. “Tight and silky and... <i>fuck</i>.” </p><p>	He was coming inside of her, a wash of heat, and he was rubbing her clit a little harder now. <i>I’m going to get pregnant</i> fell into her mind like a stone in a pool, and she sobbed as she came again, making him gasp as she clenched around his over sensitive prick.</p><p>	“There we go,” he said, and it was back to the soothing doctor tones. “There… we… go.” He leaned over her, casually palming one breast through her medical gown. “You’ll need to stay in place for the next twenty minutes or so,” he said casually. “And come back next time you’re ovulating, if this doesn’t take.” He was still inside of her, softening little by little. </p><p>	<i>It’s just like sperm donation</i>, Thea thought, and she tried to believe the lie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The names Oscar &amp; Thea are stolen shamelessly from <i>Master of the House</i> by the ever wonderful Zaffrin. You can find it at  https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528353</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Gang Rape, Dhawan!Master/Bar Patrons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For a heads up, this chapter specifically contains spitting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master was usually pretty good at following the plot. </p><p>	Hell, he was usually the one <i>directing</i> the plot, even if the majority of the time the plot was something along the lines of “get the Doctor’s attention,” he was still the one doing it. </p><p>But he hadn't orchestrated this. Hadn't manipulated, finagled, or organized any of this. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten to this point, standing in a small waterfront bar late at night, but he wanted to get out.</p><p>	Easier said than done.</p><p>	“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” the Master said, and he was using his most ingratiating, friendly tone. He smiled at the men who were closing themselves around him, and found a few too many of them to be taller than him, and broader. </p><p>	This body wasn’t especially big. He’d never been one for big, brutish bodies - he’d never been one for the more physical aspects of body having, preferring to use his superior intellect.</p><p>	That possibly wouldn’t cut it this time.</p><p>	“We’ve got one already,” said the man who was standing directly in front of the Master, and he put a big hand on the Master’s shoulder, each finger like an iron bar. It squeezed, and the Master swore he could feel things grind together. </p><p>	“I don’t remember agreeing to anything,” the Master said, and he tried to sidestep. </p><p>	There was another big man next to him, and a hand was put on the back of his neck. Then he was being force down, over one of the greasy little tables, and the hand on the back of his neck was forcing his head down. It was murky, and everything smelled of cigarettes - <i>this must be when humans were still poisoning their lungs indoors as well out out</i>, he thought, and then he made an indignant noise, as he was dragged forward by the hair. </p><p>	“Here’s the agreement,” said the man directly in front of him, and he realized that his eyes were at crotch level, and oh, he was beginning to see where this was going. </p><p>	The Master began to struggle again, and the hand in his hair yanked again, hard enough that he bellowed, the old rage beginning to rise up in the back of his throat. He made to stand up and make these insignificant humans regret the day their species had crawled out of the ocean. </p><p>	“None of that,” said the man in front of him, and now there was a cock in front of his face, and he was being dragged towards it. The cock was still soft, but it was already beginning to swell, perking up awkwardly from the nest of the man’s open trousers. </p><p>	“Fuck off,” the Master said, and his voice came out a little more panicked than he wanted it to. </p><p>	There was laughter all around him, and the cock in front of his face was grabbed roughly, smeared across the Master’s face. There was pre-come beading off the edge, and it rasped against the stubble on his face. </p><p>	“You make it good,” the man said, “and you get to walk out with all your teeth. Pretty face like yours, wouldn’t want to ruin it,” he said, and he caressed the Master’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles. </p><p>	<i>They’re all just fucking animals</i>, the Master thought, but that was part of the proble, wasn’t it? An animal could still rip your throat out, slice you open, trample you. He might have been their superior in almost every way that counted, but in this moment, they were bigger than him and stronger than him, and there were many more of them.</p><p>	He had always been good at playing the odds, at figuring out how to survive. He’d made not dying into an art form at this point.</p><p>	Wordlessly, the Master opened his mouth, and he took that cock - that horrible human heart with its single pulse thudding dully through the vein that was pressed to his tongue, as he sucked, almost bored.</p><p>	He’d sucked cock before, although he’d been a woman the last time, and he hadn’t been forced onto his stomach like this. He sucked the cock in his mouth like it was an ice lolly, letting the hand in his hair guide him up and down the cock in his mouth, and he mentally plotted how he’d bring this whole place down onto all of their heads.</p><p>	There was a hand on the waistband of his trousers - he wasn’t wearing his nice purple suit, just an old pair of denim trousers, and those were being pushed down, taking his boxers with them. The air was very cold on his bare arse, and then a human hand was on it, and that was entirely too warm. He tried to half heartedly squirm away from it, but the hands stayed there, spreading him open. Something wet hit his hole, and the cock in his mouth was shoved as deep as it would go down his throat. </p><p>	The Master gagged, and then he groaned, as a finger was shoved inside of him. He squirmed, trying to get away, but he was rewarded with a hard slap to the thigh, and more wetness on his hole. </p><p>	<i>I think he’s spitting on me</i>, the Master thought, and how did that manage to be the most humiliating part of all of this? Not even that they were staring at his arsehole, but that they were <i>spitting</i> on it. </p><p>	A finger shoved itself into his arse, and he groaned around the cock in his mouth. The man whose cock he was sucking moaned, and began to hump into his face awkwardly, short, shallow thrusts that hit the back of his throat and made him gag. His nose was up against the man’s belly now, and the finger in his arse was removed.</p><p>	“Fucking tight,” groaned the man behind him, and then his arse was being held open, and something blunt and hot was being pushed into him. </p><p>	It had been a long time since he’d taken a cock there, and not in this body at all. He clenched around it, bearing down instinctively the way he had back when he was younger and still did this more regularly. </p><p>	The man who was pushing into him grunted, then shoved all the way in, one long thrust. It <i>hurt</i>, and he groaned again, harder, and clenched. </p><p>	There was talking going on all around him, jostling, and he could hear the familiar sound of hands on cocks, of men talking amongst themselves. The man who was fucking his face was speeding up - <i>finaly</i>, and then the cock down his throat was pulled out completely, and something hot and sticky was hitting his face, getting into his fringe and dripping down his nose.</p><p>	The man in front of him stepped away, and another man took his place. Another man, with a thicker cock, and the Master’s mouth was forced open again by fingers digging into the hinge of his jaw. He opened it, as close to obedient as he ever got, and he sucked it, looking up into the face of the man to commit it to memory. </p><p>	The man fucking his arse was speeding up, and then his hips were pulled back, and there was the wash of heat inside of him as the man came. He felt them heavy wait across his back, and then the cock inside of him was pulling out, and there was another body behind him, taking its place. It shoved into him again, and he grunted around the new cock, as his own cock began to get hard in spite of himself. He’d always been fond of a bit of a buggery, although not in these circumstances.</p><p>	And never with a human.</p><p>	But his own cock was perking up, as his body reveled in the sensation of being full even as his mind recoiled with the disgust that it was a <i>human</i> doing this.</p><p>	<i>If the Doctor could see me now, she’d have quite a laugh, wouldn’t she? Her precious humans, doing something this undignified to her worst enemy.</i> </p><p>	Then again, her soft heart would probably win out and she’d give some whole speech about how people needed to take care of each other and they’d all be joined under the bonds of brotherhood or some other kind of bullshit like that. </p><p>	The man who had been fucking his face came in a gush of salt and sourness across his tongue, and he let it drip down his chin, wrinkling his nose. </p><p>	Another cock shoved into his mouth, and he sucked it mechanically. Another load shot inside of his arse, that cock replaced by a thicker, shorter one. The owner fucked him like a dog, short, sharp thrusts of his hips, and even had the good manners to reach around and jerk the Master off as he humped.</p><p>	“Squeezes so good,” the man groaned, when someone asked why - at last, the Master assumed someone had asked why, he wasn’t really paying attention. </p><p>	The advantage of having a life as long as his - and a mind as devious as his - was that he was already planning the deaths of every single one of them. Anyway, he had until he ran into the Doctor way off in the future, right?</p><p>	Plenty of time to plot.</p><p>	The man who had been jerking him off came in a rush of wetness, and when he pulled out, come dripped down the Master’s leg. Another cock went in to join it - <i>just how many people are there in this bar, anyway?!</i> - and his hair was pulled tightly. </p><p>	The Master shuddered as a new hand wrapped itself around his cock, and he began to mentally map out the first murder. He’d have to follow the man home, first…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Dhawan!Master/Yaz, Con to Non-Con</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yasmin Khan was not the type of person to snog someone she had just met in a cupboard. But then again, she hadn't been the type to lie to tech gurus or go into sentient universes or hijack cranes or… well, she hadn't been one to do a lot of things. </p>
<p>And O was sweet. He had big brown eyes and a sweet smile, and sometimes she caught him shooting the same slightly lovesick looks at the Doctor that probably graced her own face. Was it weird, to be attracted to someone because you both had the same unattainable crush?</p>
<p>But she had put on the sequined blazer and adjusted her blouse, and there was O in his own tux, and he had asked her for help with his tie and she had somehow ended up looking into his eyes as she adjusted it and... </p>
<p>His lips were soft and warm against her own, and his hands were big and nervous on her shoulders, and then the tips of a few fingers stroked along the side of her jaw. </p>
<p>Then it was all a blur, and the two of them were crowding into the cupboard. She didn’t want anyone to walk in on them, and he’d gone along with it easily enough. His hands were in her hair, his hands were on her hips, he was pulling himself closer to her as he kissed her and kissed her. </p>
<p>	She’d never kissed someone with stubble before - it was rough against her cheeks, and his tongue in her mouth was a bit… much. She pulled back to get a breath, and he followed, until she was backed into a shelf, and he was <i>lifting her up</i>, how was he so <i>strong</i>? He looked like a dweeby little pencil pusher. </p>
<p>	Nonthreatening, in a way that she found endearing. </p>
<p>	“Oh,” Yaz murmured, “Wow.” His hands were working their way under the hem of her shirt, and they seemed so <i>big</i> compared to her own, when she put them on top of his. </p>
<p>	In the tight quarters of the cupboard, he seemed to dominate the whole space. There was something manic about the way he was touching her, and the taste of him was filing up her whole head, like perfume in an elevator.</p>
<p>	“Has she kissed you like this yet?” O’s mouth was moving lower, to nibble along her ear, and she moaned, her back arching. His tongue was very loud as it traced along the curve of her ear, then nipped it. </p>
<p>	“No,” Yaz whispered, and she didn’t know why her cheeks were getting so warm. “No, she… she hasn’t kissed me. I don’t think she kisses.”</p>
<p>	“She told me that she’s kissed other companions,” O said. His hand was moving up her shirt now, under it, and he was squeezing her breast, his thumb on the nipple. He was rougher than she thought he’d be, as he kissed her mouth again, a little harder. </p>
<p>	“Did she?” Yaz whispered against O’s mouth. </p>
<p>	“Yeah. He was all torn up about it.” O sighed, and he pinched her nipple just a little too hard. “He was apparently very in love with one of his companions. Sorry, she.” Another nipple twist, and both hands were up her shirt now, and she nudged at his chest, trying to get them out. </p>
<p>	He didn’t seem to notice. “Has she kissed you?” He kissed her before she could answer, and it was the kind of sweet, desperate kiss that made her toes curl and her knees weak. She had her legs wrapped around him now, and she was running her fingers through his hair, grabbing at his shoulders. </p>
<p>	When his hands moved to her waistband, she paused. “Movin’ a bit fast, aren’t we?” She tried to keep her voice light, teasing. “Gonna buy me dinner first, at least?”</p>
<p>	“Made you dinner back at the house,” he pointed out, and he stopped fiddling with her waistband, curving his palm around the crotch of her trousers and pressing the seam into her clit. </p>
<p>	“Oh!” Yaz’s hips rocked forward, and she hissed through her teeth.</p>
<p>	“Speaking of,” O said, and she could faintly make out the fact that he was fluttering his eyelashes at her. “Wouldn’t say no to a bit more… eating.”</p>
<p>	Yaz snickered, one hand over her mouth. “Has that chat up line ever worked?” She let his hands go back to her waistband, unbutton her trousers. She even lifted her backside up, to let him pull the trousers and her knickers down. </p>
<p>	There was just enough space in the cupboard for O to get on his knees, although it was close. His stubble was rough against her inner thighs, and she shivered when his breath gusted over her pubic hair. “Y’don’t have to do this,” she said, resting her hands on top of his head. His hair was silky against her fingers, and ticklish against her palms. </p>
<p>	“I like it,” he said, his tone fervent, and this his tongue was hot and wet against her labia, swirling over her clit. </p>
<p>	Yaz hissed, and she made a broken little noise as her back arched forward. Her heels were digging into his sides, and her head thumped against the back of the cupboard. </p>
<p>	<i>Do I want this?</i> Yaz wondered blearily, as he licked her wetly, angling his head so that  he could get his tongue inside of her, rubbing her clit with one thumb. Her knees were over his shoulders now, and his chin was abrading her perineum.</p>
<p>	She’d done this before, although it had been a lot… different. Something about it all felt as if she was doing she shouldn’t have been doing, and it made her stomach knot up. O <i>was</i> cute, and she’d liked kissing him. Maybe she just needed to tell him that she wanted to go back to kissing. That would be okay, right?</p>
<p>	O’s mouth was hot and wet against  her, and it seemed to be coaxing <i>more</i> pleasure. She closed her eyes and let herself ride the wave of it, because what else was she going to do? She kept her thighs open and she gasped as she came, like someone popping a balloon in her gut that left her shaken, the pleasure pulsing through her like a star.</p>
<p>	“That was nice, wasn’t it?” She could see the shine of his eyes, from the light sneaking under the door.</p>
<p>	“Y-yeah,” Yaz panted. She was going to need another shower; she’d already sweated through her shirt, and her hair was probably limp. </p>
<p>	“Always loved doing that,” he said, and then he was standing up suddenly, drawing her legs around his hips and kissing her. His mouth tasted like her cunt, and his cheeks were sticky with her arousal. His hands seemed otherwise occupied, but she didn’t mind too much. </p>
<p>	She liked kissing, and she was still giddy from the orgasm, barely keeping her balance on the shelf. She sighed, wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her, sweet and deep and perfect. She lost herself in it, her hands in his hair, along his back, over his shoulders. </p>
<p>	Then something solid was being pressed at the entrance of her cunt, and... wait a minute.</p>
<p>	“O?” She pulled back from the kiss, tried to squirm away, but was kept in place by the back of the cupboard. </p>
<p>	He grunted as he pushed into her, and Yaz hissed through her teeth. Her cunt clenched around him involuntarily, and he hissed through his teeth. <i>He isn’t wearing a condom</i>, </p>
<p>	“O,” Yaz murmured, “hold on.”</p>
<p>	He paused, still inside of her. “Yaz?”</p>
<p>	“Can you pull out, please?” She was faintly impressed at how calm she sounded.</p>
<p>	“Yeah, sure,” he said, as if she’d asked him to pass the salt. </p>
<p>	She could have wept with relief, as he began to withdraw… and then he shoved it back in. </p>
<p>	“Or maybe not,” he said cheerfully, and there was a manic note to his voice. His hands were on her hips now, holding her in place, and the slap of their hips as he began to fuck her with hard, sharp jabs was very loud in the enclosed space.</p>
<p>	“O,” Yaz said, “stop it.” She shoved at his chest, but it was like trying to shift a wall. “O, stop it.”</p>
<p>	He ignored her as he began to move faster, and the feel of his shaft moving in and out of her was sickeningly good, making her too aware of her cunt, of all of her body. He let go of her thighs to palm her breasts, kneading them roughly, and she squirmed some more, digging her heels into his sides. </p>
<p>	“Let go of me, I don’t -”</p>
<p>	“I don’t care what you want,’ he said, and that was enough to bring the panic back. She tried to shove him away, and he made an irritated noise, letting go of one breast to press his fingers against her temple. “Humans,” he groused, and his voice was entirely different. It was making her even more nervous.</p>
<p>	“O -”</p>
<p>	<i>Not my name, sweetheart</i>, said the voice in her head, and then a wave of calm seemed to pass over her like a feathered comforter, smothering and entirely Too Much. She gasped, but went limp against the wall as he kept fucking her. All pretenses of softness were gone, of gentleness. This wasn’t the doofy, slightly awkward man she’d smiled at in the Outback.</p>
<p>	She didn’t know who it was.</p>
<p>	“Why does she keep you around, now that she doesn’t have a cock?” He was all the way inside of her, and giving little rolls of his hips, grinding his pubic bone against her clit, and that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. </p>
<p>	“O, stop it,” Yaz said. “Get out, I don’t -”</p>
<p>	<i>I don’t care what you want</i>, the same voice in her head, a little more forceful this time. <i>Just take it like a good little human. Milk my cock and take my come, and then we can go back to the damn charade.</i></p>
<p>	O pressed closer to her, a parody of a lover’s embrace as his cock worked inside of her. He panted in her ear, and the hand not on her temple went between their bodies. He was rubbing her clit, and somehow he was doing it perfectly, in the little half circles that she used on herself when she masturbated, focusing on the right side. She was already getting tighter around him, her whole body focusing on that one point of pleasure. </p>
<p>When she shoved at his shoulders, it didn’t do anything, and she couldn’t seem to get her arms to operate enough to shove him away from her, to dig her nails in. Couldn’t seem to bite him or do anything but sit on the shelf and take it and take it and...</p>
<p>	“Fuck,” he groaned in her ear, as the orgasm that he’d been nudging through her wrung her out like a wet cloth. She whimpered through it, her cunt pulsing around his cock, and he grunted like an animal as he came inside of her, a wash of warmth and stickiness.</p>
<p>	“Much better,” he murmured, and then the finger in her temple was digging in a little harder. The last thing she remembered, before it all went black, was the strange sensation of a double heartbeat against her own chest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Drugged, Thirteen/Dhawan!Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one went a little... trippy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He came back to himself, sometimes. </p><p>	Sort of. </p><p>	He wasn't entirely sure if it was him as himself, or if it was his past self, or possibly his future self? Although it would always be his future self, wouldn't it be?</p><p>	The Doctor was keeping her in the guts of her TARDIS, and he could sense how much it hated him, in his more lucid moments. She drugged him with... something. He didn't know what it was, except that it left his head swimming. He surfaced sometimes, like a swimmer in the rapids, and the brief moments of lucidity almost made the rest of it worse.</p><p>	He was woken up at one point by the Doctor's hands on his face. She was doing... something. Checking his pupils? There was a coldness on his chest, as she shoved his shirt up, and then more coldness. Was she pressing a stethoscope against him?</p><p>	"Don't know why I'm bothering with this," she was grumbling to herself, leaning over him in the bed. "Should've left you to float through space. Should've just..." He fell back under, even as he tried to grab her, pull her closer or shove her away.</p><p>	<i>Why are you doing this to me?</i> He tried reaching out to her telepathically, but something about the drugs that she had him on kept him too woozy and disoriented to focus his telepathy. </p><p>	"I still remember our friendship, y'know," she said, during one of his lucid moments. He sprawled out on the bed, and his legs were a million miles away, his whole body floating a little to the left. "And I do believe in the sanctity of life. Wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just killed you. 's'what you'd deserve, after what you did to our people."</p><p>	"My people," he tried to say. "Not our people." It game out as a garbled, incoherent mess, and she tsked, and wiped the drool off of his chin. </p><p>	"When you've calmed down a bit," she told him, "we'll get you on a different dose." She ruffled his hair, and he shuddered. His whole body was tingling, <i>prickling</i>, and he was getting hard. His cock was a million miles away, and maybe it wasn't even his. Was he sure?</p><p>	He fell back down into the fog that he'd been swimming through, and when he came up again, it was to the sensation of something soft in his mouth. Soft and sweet. Banana? Aragale Fruit? His body's reflexes took over, and he swallowed. </p><p>	"Should... let me die," he mumbled, and she frowned. </p><p>	"Need to change your dose," she said, her tone thoughtful. "See what can help with that." </p><p>	"You're worse 'n I ever was," he slurred out. "Or... we're on the same footing. Foot. Different feet." His head lolled forward, and she was lying him down again. When had he been upright? </p><p>	He woke up to her warm hands moving across his body, cleaning him. She was talking about something - maybe one of her pets, or whatever stupid plot she had foiled this time, or whatever world she'd saved. </p><p>	"You're a big boy, this time around," she said, and somehow she sounded disapproving. How could he make him being well endowed somehow be something humiliating? </p><p>	Her fingers were wrapped around his cock, and that didn't feel right. If she was going to touch him like that, it would be because he <i>made</i> her, not because she was just... what, taking care of him? Milking him like an animal?</p><p>	<i>On Earth, bull semen is one of the most expensive liquids in the world</i>, thought some nonsensical part of his mind, or maybe that was the Doctor's own mind, nibbling at his own. <i>Time Lord semen must be worth more than that.</i></p><p>	She jerked him off like it was a chore, quick, efficient little jerks of her wrist. He was too dazed to even move his hips; when he came, he barely felt it, was more aware by the splatter of warm wetness across his belly, and the disgusted noise she made as it dripped down her knuckles. </p><p>	"Well," she said, and then there was a sting, as something pressed into the side of his neck, and he was under again. </p><p>	He woke up to her on top of him, her knees pressing into his sides, and there was wetness dripping down around his groin, silky heat clenched around his cock. She was making desperate animal noises on top of him, and when he opened his eyes he could make out her pale breasts, her hard little nipples. They were hard and pink, and they pressed into his bare chest, her heartbeat thumping desperately against his chest.</p><p>	"You're... so... so this is..." She trailed off, and then she whimpered, her head tilting back and her mouth falling open. He was aware, tangentially, that her hands were on his shoulders now, holding herself in place. </p><p>	She was rubbing her clit, and every time she rubbed it, her cunt jumped, clenched around him. He could feel her breath on his face, as humid and hot as a night on Gallifrey. </p><p>	They'd done this before, on Gallifrey, and he wished that he could remember why they were doing it now. They weren't on Gallifrey, he couldn't smell any ash, all he could smell was her breath, the salt of her skin, the warmth of her body pressing into his own.</p><p>	He missed having that kind of body, sometimes. Remembered the satisfying ache of being filled. What would it be like, to be filled now? He didn't want to fill her, didn't want to give her that satisfaction, and satisfaction she seemed to be achieving. </p><p>	"Didn't realize how good this would feel," she mumbled, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. She shuddered, and then there was the sensation of his cock being squeezed desperately, and then he flopped forward. </p><p>	"Doctor," he said, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Why...?" </p><p>	"Sh," she said, and she pressed her forehead against his. A sting to the side of his neck, and then he was out again, sinking down into the deep fog of sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Thirteen/Yaz, Gentle Non-Con/Praise Kink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz was not bothered by tight spaces. When she was small and wanted to get away from her sister, she’d liked to play in her closet with the door closed. There had been a comfort in being able to touch all the walls from one spot, in being surrounded by familiar things that she knew were all hers. </p><p>    So why did she feel like she was going to start screaming if she didn’t get out of this small closet? Her heart was beating a million miles an hour, and the anxiety seemed to be prickling across her whole body, wave after wave of goosebumps that danced across her skin and left her shaking. </p><p>    The Doctor was pressed against her back, and she could feel the odd double heartbeat, the up and down of the Doctor’s breath, the ticklishness of the Doctor’s hair.</p><p>    “Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was very quiet in Yaz’s ear, “you need to calm down.”</p><p>    “I’m calm,” Yaz protested weakly. </p><p>    “You smell anxious,” the Doctor said, and that was an <i>uncomfortable</i> thing to say. “You just need to calm down a little bit, Yaz, we’ll be fine.” Her hands were on Yaz’s hips, and her thumbs were rubbing little circles. </p><p>    “Why are you commenting on how I smell?” Yaz could feel some of the anxiety giving way to confusion, at least. That was something. </p><p>    “It’s how the thing following us can track us, as far as I can tell,” said the Doctor. “Although I’m not sure.” Her hands had moved up, to press down on Yaz’s stomach. “You need to <i>relax</i> Yaz,” she said again.</p><p>    “I’m relaxed,” Yaz said, although her heart was beating even harder. She shivered, as the Doctor’s hand was moving up her belly. </p><p>    “You’re a horrible liar,” the Doctor said, and then she was <i>cupping Yaz’s breast</i>. “I can feel your heart beating.” She pressed her thumb against Yaz’s nipple, and Yaz squirmed, bit her lip. She couldn’t make any loud noise, or the things after them might find them. </p><p>    “Doctor, what are you <i>doing</i>?” Yaz brought her hand up, tried to push the Doctor’s away, but it was like trying to shift a tree. </p><p>    “Calming you down,” the Doctor said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Humans always calm down after a good orgasm.” Her other hand had come into play now, gently plucking at Yaz’s nipples through the bra and the t-shirt. </p><p>    “Doctor,” Yaz hissed, and she tried to push the Doctor’s hands away again, but the Doctor batted them away, then went back to what she was doing. </p><p>    There was barely any room for Yaz to cross her arms, or push the Doctor away. She was suddenly acutely aware of their proximity, of just how close the two of them were, the Doctor’s warmth clinging to her like some kind of parasite. </p><p>    “Sh,” the Doctor said, not unkindly. “This’ll sort you out just fine…” She twisted Yaz’s nipples gently, her thumbs and forefingers tugging them, then letting go. “I know what humans need, it’s fine. I’ve done this before.” More gentle stroking, kneading of her breasts, thumbs flicking against her nipples. </p><p>    The pleasure and the anxiety was beginning to curdle in her belly, some weird combination that left her knees weak and her toes curling in her boots. “Doctor, you don’t need to...I can calm… Doctor.” </p><p>    The Doctor gave her tits a little jiggle. “These are nice,” she said, and her voice was quiet. “I’ve been thinking about how nice they are.” </p><p>    “Have you?” Her voice cracked, and then she gasped, as the Doctor’s hand slid lower. “Doctor -”</p><p>    “Sh,” the Doctor said. “Sh, sh, Yaz, be good.” Her hand didn’t seem to have any trouble making its way into her trousers. Her fingers were cool as they combed through Yaz’s pubic hair, and her breath was hot on Yaz’s ear. “Such a good girl, Yaz, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” </p><p>    Yaz shivered convulsively, and she couldn’t seem to push the Doctor away. “Doctor,” she said, and her voice cracked. “Doctor, could you maybe not -”</p><p>    “No, no, shush,” the Doctor said, and the tip of her finger found Yaz’s clit, then moved lower, to stroke between her labia. “Look at that, you’re wet already.”</p><p>    <i>Only because you’ve been touching me</i>, she wanted to say, but what did that mean? Was that just proving the Doctor’s point? </p><p>    “Sh,” the Doctor crooned. “Be a good girl, Yaz, you’re such a good girl, you feel so good.” One finger was pushed into Yaz, and Yaz would have squealed if the Doctor’s hand hadn’t covered her mouth. </p><p>    “Don’t want to let them know we’re in here, remember?” The Doctor’s thumb was circling over Yaz’s clit, and the Doctor’s fingers curled inside of Yaz, as she curled it and straightened it. “You feel so good inside, Yaz, you’re so hot and wet, and you clench so tight. Next time we do this, I’ve got a bio-organic dildo, I’ll be able to feel it properly…”</p><p>    <i>What do she mean, next time?</i> Yaz didn’t say, and she grunted into the Doctor’s hand as another finger was added, still thrusting into her. <i>I don’t want a next time, get it out, I don’t want this!</i></p><p>    She was getting wetter, dripping down the Doctor’s hand, and the Doctor made a pleased sound, pressing gentle little kisses down the side of Yaz’s neck. “You’re doing such a good job,” the Doctor whispered in her ear, “keeping quiet. I can feel you getting closer, you’re clenching me so tightly. Is that nice, Yaz? D’you like it?”</p><p>    The Doctor didn’t wait for Yaz to answer. She began to move faster, and her curling fingers were brushing against something delicate inside of Yaz, something that made her whole body seize up. She gasped into the hand over her mouth, and she found her own breath hot and misty against her face, the Doctor’s palm sweaty with it.</p><p>    “There we go, Yaz,” the Doctor crooned. “Just like that, you’re almost there. And such a good job being quiet, they’ll neve know we’re in here. Isn’t that nice? I can feel how much you like it when I touch you like that, good girl.” Another curl of her fingers, and Yaz’s whole body seemed to seize up. </p><p>    The orgasm was painful, wrenched out of her like a bad tooth. She whimpered into the Doctor’s hand, her cunt pulsing and squeezing around the fingers inside of her, and she went utterly limp against the Doctor, her head resting on the Doctor’s shoulder. </p><p>    She was… empty, for all that the Doctor’s fingers were stuffed inside of her. She was just inhabiting her body, a little bit to the left of herself. She sighed, as the fingers were withdrawn from her trousers, the hand let go of her tits. She sighed, and she let herself be sat up straight. </p><p>    “We’ll be able to go soon,” she said, brushing a little kiss against Yaz’s cheek. “Back to the TARDIS, we can do this properly in a bed…” </p><p>    And Yaz shivered, and didn’t say anything.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Dhawan!Master/Thirteen, Blackmail/Coercion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Poor Doctor. I feel like I'm meaner and meaner to her, each chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor paced the confines of the small space, and she scowled at the Master. </p><p>	“Come now, old friend,” the Master said, and he rubbed his hands together, smiling like a predator, “it was your idea to come to this labyrinth, wasn’t it? I heard you telling your little pets about it.”</p><p>	She scowled. “Where are they?” She crossed her arms across her chest and tapping her foot. </p><p>	He looked too <i>smug</i>, and she was grinding her teeth. Her hands were shoved into her pockets, so that she could resist the urge to punch him. Had she always had these violent urges, or was he a bad influence on her?</p><p>	“Oh, they’re somewhere,” he said. “Somewhere in this vast, rambling library…” He opened his hands wide. “You brought them here on the way to something else, didn’t you? Because you got a distress beacon?” He smiled, a cheerful, twinkling smile, and he held up a blinking piece of circuitry. “Oops.”</p><p>	“Why… <i>why</i> do you do this?” The Doctor waved her hands in the air, indicating the narrow, dark corridors surrounding the little room the two of them were currently ensconced in. </p><p>	“You don’t answer my text messages,” the Master said. “You don’t call, you don’t write, how else am I supposed to get your attention?” </p><p>	The Doctor groaned, and she scrubbed her face with her hands. “Where’s Yaz?”</p><p>	He smiled at her again. “Shan’t tell you,” he said, in that same singsong tone, “but… well.” He cocked his head theatrically. “I think I can hear it,” he added.</p><p>	“What are you on about?” She demanded.</p><p>	“The minotaur,” he said, and the teasing had gone out of his voice. “Not a proper minotaur - no bestiality brought this one about. Apart from the melding of mechanical and organic…” He smiled beatifically. “Truly, it is a marvel.”</p><p>	Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t,” she said, and her voice was very quiet.</p><p>	“I’ve done away with your little human pets before,” he said. “It’s one of the ways we play. You get new ones, I mess with them, rinse, repeat.”</p><p>	“I don't want you touching her,” the Doctor said sharply, and she hated how her voice shook. “Where is she?”</p><p>	“<i>I</i> wouldn’t be the one touching her,” the Master said. “I wouldn’t have laid a hand on her.” </p><p>	There was a sound like a distant roar, and the Master smiled wider. </p><p>	“Call it off,” the Doctor said. </p><p>	“Shan’t,” the Master said, as obstinate as a child. </p><p>	“Please,” she said, and her voice squeaked. </p><p>	“What would you do for her?” The Master’s voice was like a cat, rubbing against her all silky and soft. Was there telepathic suggestion behind it?</p><p>	“I’d do anything, to keep her safe,” the Doctor said quietly. </p><p>	“I do, in fact, have the control mechanism for the Minotaur stashed away,” he said. “Someplace nice and safe. But I’d need some proper convincing.” </p><p>	“What do you want?” she ground out.</p><p>	“Show me your tits,” he said, and she blinked. </p><p>	“What?” </p><p>	“Your tits,” he said. “You’ve got a lovely new pair. I’d like to see them.”</p><p>	“That’s all you want?” She was frowning.</p><p>	“Well,” he said, “it’s certainly a start, isn’t it?” He smirked. </p><p>	“You’re scummy,” she said, but she wrenched her shirts up, keeping her coat on and her braces up. She took her sports bra with it, so that her bare breasts were just… there, in the cool, stale air.</p><p>	His eyes darted from her chest to her face, and he was smirking. “Aren’t they lovely,” he cooed, and his hands went to her breasts, big and a little too rough as he pinched her nipples, then twisted them.</p><p>	The Doctor hissed through her teeth, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you s-s-said you wanted to… see them,” she said. “You see with your eyes.”</p><p>	“I said seeing was a start,” he said. He flicked her nipples with thumbs, then pulled them, before letting go. </p><p>	She bared her teeth in a grimace, and he smiled back at her. “Are you done yet?” She tried to sound bored, as if this wasn’t having any kind of impact on her.</p><p>	“Nope,”he said, and he held her breasts in his hands, squeezing them. “Get on your knees.”</p><p>	She made eye contact, raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we do this already?” She made to push her shirt back down, and he grabbed her wrist. </p><p>	“Didn’t say put them away,” he said, and he jiggled one breast.</p><p>	She batted his hand away, and he raised an eyebrow. </p><p>	“So you don’t want your friend back, then?” He jiggled the other one, and she gritted her teeth. “Well, you’ll get her back. Probably. Definitely pieces, at the very least.”</p><p>	She got on her knees, and tried not to wince at the discomfort at the hard linoleum under her knees. </p><p>	“Much better,” he said, and his hand rested on the top of her head. “Now suck me off.”</p><p>	“You’ve got to be joking,” she said, aghast. </p><p>	“Would I ever joke about something as lovely as your mouth?” He pressed his thumb against her lower lip. “I still remember, back in the old days. Wasn’t such a struggle then, was it?” </p><p>	She glared at him, didn’t say anything, but she let him push his thumb into her mouth. </p><p>	“Well?” He gestured with his free hand. “Are you going to get on with it?”</p><p>	Her stomach twisted. “This is below you,” she said, her voice thick. </p><p>	“No, you’re below me,” the Master said, and his fingers tangled in her hair, yanked her head back. “It’d do you well to remember that.”</p><p>	She bit her lip, her toes curling in her boots. It seemed like she had the same hot spots she’d had in other bodies. Although then again, it was never really a case of a new body, was it? All bodies were a collection of nerves, and nerves tended to work the same way, more or less.</p><p>	She fished his cock out of his trousers, and... well, there it was. Different from his last one, but it still smelled like him. When she took him into her mouth and sucked, it was hot and heavy on her tongue, the skin like velvet against her. She held it there and sucked like it was an ice lolly, and he tsked.	</p><p>	“I <i>know</i> you can do better than that,” he said, and he used the leverage in her hair to bob her head up and down, rolling his hips to fuck her face. </p><p>	She gagged and sputtered, but she took it, drooling down her chin and dripping across her bared breasts. <i>This is undignified, but I’ve done worse</i>, she thought. Her hands were stiff at her sides, and her knees were already starting to ache. At least she could concentrate on the ache in her knees, instead of the little bits of memories crowding around the edges of her mind, about a time long ago when they’d done this.</p><p>	She’d been a man, and he’d been a man, and the two of them had been so young that it made her hearts hurt. And they’d loved each other with a fierceness that still ached, like the memory of a broken bone. There were tears dripping down her face, and maybe some of them might have been from the force of his cock on the back of her throat, and some of them from the memories, but he didn’t need to know that.</p><p>	“You know, I’ve fucked statues that were more responsive,” the Master said, as he pulled his cock out of her mouth. The wet head smeared across her cheek, leaving a sticky trail.</p><p>	“You’re coercing this out of me,” the Doctor said, and her voice was a croaking, craggy mess. “What d’you want, a cheerleading routine?’</p><p>	“Is that a thing you can do?” The Master raised an eyebrow.</p><p>	<i>Shit, don’t give the fucker any ideas.</i> “What do you want?” She kept her voice low, tired. </p><p>	“You,” the Master said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, then; “get up.”</p><p>	She stood up, on aching knees, and she looked at him impassively. </p><p>	She was <i>not</i> expecting him to get on his knees, and she stared down at him, her eyes wide, as he unsnapped her braces. Her trousers almost immediately started to droop, and he yanked them down. His nose was pressed into her cunt, and then it was his <i>mouth</i>, licking her from hole to clit and back, before fastening on to that most sensitive part of her and sucking.</p><p>	The Doctor gasped, her hips jerking forward and her eyes squeezing shut. She made a desperate, pained noise, and her hands were in his hair. “I could kill you this way,” she said roughly. “Hurt you. I could… sonic -”</p><p>	“If you do any of those things I won’t tell you what you need to know,” the Master said, and his voice was alarmingly <i>serene</i>, ticklish against her vulva. “We both know I’ll only give you what you want to know when I’ve gotten what I want.” He licked her again, then held her open with his fingers and fucked her with his tongue. </p><p>	The Doctor closed her eyes and clutched at his hair, her fingernails digging into his scalp. She could take some petty satisfaction from that little bit of pain. It wasn’t fair that he was pulling pleasure out of her like someone spinning thread. Her orgasm was coiling at the base of her belly, and it was just <i>there</i>, looming over her. His stubbly chin was rough on her perineum, and his hot tongue was making her tremble. </p><p>	The Doctor came against his face, and he pulled away from her, snickering, as he rearranged himself. He pulled her into his lap, and her aching knees protested as she bent again. The head of his cock was blunt and heavy against the entrance to her cunt, but she was still open and wet from her orgasm, and he sank in with barely any stretch.</p><p>	“Oh, that’s lovely,” he breathed, and he held on to her hips to keep her in place, beginning to thrust into her. “I’ll be back here, I promise that.” One hand was on her shoulder, the other was between them, his thumb on her clit. She fluttered and spasmed around the length of him, and she simply… took it. </p><p>	She was inhabiting her body, but she was already calculating what she was going to tell Yaz. The weave of his waistcoat was rough against her nipples, and the noises he was making in her ear - grunts, gasps, moans - reminded her of other times she’d done this, with him and with other people. The familiar clench and pulse was still alien in its own way, and when he came inside of her, she mentally rolled her eyes.</p><p>	His face was still beautiful and stark in his pleasure, and she kept her eyes on it, taken in by his features in spite of herself. Even with a brand new face, it was still <i>him</i>. </p><p>	<i>I’m going to have all that leaking out of me, aren’t I?</i> She shivered, as his thumb kept working over her clit, She was faintly surprised at it, but she dutifully came around him, wondering faintly if he was too oversensitive. </p><p>	As she was coming down, he whispered in her ear. </p><p>	“The minotaur isn’t real,” he said, his tone tinged with glee, “and your little human has been watching us on the monitor the whole time.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth that would have been romantic, if it had been from anyone else. </p><p>	And her insides turned to ice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had a weird half-dream about this setting, and I have no clue if it was already a setting or if my brain just settled on it while I was 2/3rds asleep.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Dhawan!Doctor/Whittaker!Master, Genderswap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Today is a bit of a cheat. I know the prompt is genderswap, not roleswap, but... well, the Master and the Doctor <i>are</i> both different genders than their canon incarnations! They're just... also different people. &lt; &lt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Look at you," the Master said, and she was smiling like an oncoming hit and run. "Fancy running into a boy like you in a place like this." </p>
<p>"Well," the Doctor said, his voice dry, "you did explode a bridge and capsize a ferry full of cars, which I then had to spend a good deal of very cold hours saving people." He was chained up in the middle of the Master’s latest lair, arms over his head, up on his tiptoes. He’d had his coat taken from him, and his shirt was starting to ride up from having his arms up in the air like this. </p>
<p>"You saved 'em all, did ya?" The Master hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her waistcoat, and she rocked on her heels. She wasn’t wearing her purple coat, and her dark blue shirtsleeves were rolled up, folded over her forearms. He was very much not looking at her forearms, and thinking about how he wanted to run his hands over them.</p>
<p>	“I did,” the Doctor said. “You know, you could just send a letter.”</p>
<p>	“You ignore my letters,” the Master said, and now she was walking around him in a circle, taking big, exaggerated steps. “You’re quite handsome in this body. Short, too.”</p>
<p>	“I’m taller than you,” the Doctor pointed out, without rancor. </p>
<p>	“Not by much,” she countered. “You towered over me, last go ‘round.”</p>
<p>	He would have shrugged, if his arms weren’t chained to the beam in the ceiling over his head. “Can we get this over with? I’ve got other stuff that needs doing.”</p>
<p>	She wrinkled her nose, and she looked offended. “Really? Not even a ‘wow, lookit how well you’ve got on’ for your best enemy?” She made a flamboyant hand gesture, almost like jazz hands, and then she indicated herself. “D’you like the new body?”</p>
<p>	“Master,” the Doctor said, and she perked up when he said it in a way that made him grit his teeth, “can we not do this?” He rattled the chains, which were keeping his wrists up. “We both know I’ll be out of this in maybe two minutes, get my coat and my sonic, foil your latest plan, and be on my way.”</p>
<p>	“Well,” the Master said brightly, “wouldn’t be wanting that.” And she… stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. </p>
<p>	It wasn’t much of a kiss, honestly. More like she was mashing her mouth against his, forcing her teeth against her lips, and <i>that</i> was uncomfortable. Her tongue was in his mouth, and her hands were clutching at his braces, keeping him close. </p>
<p>	“PIty I can’t let your hands down,” she said, her tone conversational. “I’ve got a little less up top than I did, last time, but they’re still quite nice.” She pressed against him, and her breasts were very soft, her hearts beating a staccato rhythm against his own. </p>
<p>	He really wished she wouldn’t do that. Wished that he wasn’t so <i>acutely</i> aware of her warmth, of the way he wanted to curl around her and kiss her and throttle her and hold her and kill her and cure her and....</p>
<p>	“I can see how much you miss me in your eyes,” she said, her voice low. “What’s your new body like?”</p>
<p>	“Arms, legs, head, feet, hands, got the usual assortment,” he said shortly. It was hard to think of getting out of the chains, when she kept pressing against him like that. </p>
<p>	“This’ll be your first time having a pecker that’s bigger ‘n mine,” she said, and her grin was wide, with a few too many teeth.”</p>
<p>	He raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>	“I know what you’re thinkin’,” she continued, and her hand was going between his legs, to find his cock, starting to swell in his trousers. “You’re thinkin’, ‘Oh no, Master, back when you were the equally sexy and genius Missy, you didn’t have a cock then,’ aren’t you?” She pressed the  heel of her hand against the head of his erection, and he hissed through his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut. </p>
<p>	“I was thinking that this is awfully petty, even by your standards,” the Doctor said, and he hated how dry his mouth was. “I’d even go so far as to say immature.”</p>
<p>	“We can’t all be paragons of virtue like you are,” the Master said, and she was <i>sneering</i> now, her whole face wrinkling up. It really <i>was</i> expressive, in this body. “But let’s see what I’ll be working with.”</p>
<p>	“I’d really rather you didn’t,” he said, and wow, his voice sounded… weak.</p>
<p>	“Of course you would,” she said, almost <i>absently</i> as she fiddled with the fly of his trousers, pulling it down and fishing his cock out through the slot of his boxers. The cool air hit the hot skin, and he bit his lip to keep from wincing. It was getting harder to concentrate on getting out of the chains, and he actually <i>moaned</i> when she stroked him in her fist, giving an extra little twist over the head. </p>
<p>	“Master,” he said, and okay, his voice was getting weak. He was dripping pre-come, and it smeared over her palm, across his foreskin as she jerked him lazily. He hadn’t been touched by another person in this body yet, and he was… sensitive in ways that he wasn’t normally. </p>
<p>	“Aren’t you a big boy,” she cooed, and the condescension in her was enough to make his jaw ache and his cock pulse in her fist. “This is more cock than you know what to do with,” she told him, and then she was… stepping back? </p>
<p>	He watched her, trying to will his erection down. She was unbuttoning her own trousers, pushing them down, and she was wearing boxers as well - she seemed to have gotten bored with all the trappings of Edwardian femininity, after being Missy. The boxers were silky and purple, and then the Doctor was looking at her cunt, and he really shouldn’t have been. </p>
<p>	There was curly blond hair covering her cunt, and he could just make out the nub of her clit, erect and pink. <i>I want to get on my knees and lick her</i>, he thought. <i>I need to get out of here</i>, he thought. </p>
<p>	She pressed closer to him, and the head of his cock smeared a sticky trail across her belly, over her waistcoat and the tails of her shirt. The whisper of fabric was like torture, and he shuddered, and hated himself for it.</p>
<p>	“Such a good boy,” she said, and she took his cock in hand again, pressing it between her legs. She was… straddling him, and he pressed between her labia, the base of his cock bumped against her clit, and the head was pressing against the cleft of her arse.</p>
<p>	She squeezed her thighs together, and the silky tightness of it made his eyes roll. “The thing about this body,” she said, and she was speaking into his neck, the stubble along his jaw, “is that this is what it wants. Something about making everything all… narrow, focused on the one point.” She got up on her tiptoes and gave a little wriggle, which made the Doctor gasp, his cock twitching against her. “You really don’t know what you’re missing out on, in that model.” She rubbed her cheek against his, and then she pulled back, making a face. “You need to shave. Don’t think I like that.” She patted his cheek, and her palm rasped against his stubble.</p>
<p>	“Didn’t exactly grow it for you,” he said, and his voice cracked again, as the slippery lips of her cunt passed over the sensitive head of his cock. He was going to come if she kept this up, and he didn’t know if he’d ever dreaded anything more.</p>
<p>	(That was a total lie, he’d dreaded plenty of things more than this, but it was hard to remember that when she was panting in his ear, clutching at his shoulders, and that pleasure that was coiling in his guts was like a hot wire).</p>
<p>	“That was your mistake,” she said, and she gave another tight squeeze with her thighs. </p>
<p>	The Doctor sobbed into the side of her head as he came, his cock spitting ribbons of thick, sticky come across the backs of her thighs, a few splatters hitting her vulva as she drew back. </p>
<p>	“What a naughty boy, makin’ a mess like this,” she said in that same teasing, mocking voice of hers. “We’ll have to clean you up, won’t we?” She squeezed him again, and it was almost too much for his oversensitive cock. “And you’ll have to clean up this mess.” She patted him on the cheek condescendingly, and he shuddered.</p>
<p>	He wasn’t sure what brought it on, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to be the last time for the evening. He didn’t trust the mad gleam in her eye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I swear it is pure coincidence that I posted this and <i>Stick in the Mud</i> within 2 days of each other. Weird coincidence, but coincidence nonetheless.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Thirteen/Aliens, Public Use</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has some discussions of bestiality (with humans/human-esque aliens as the beasts), &amp; knotted cocks. If you're not one for either of those things, possibly give it a skip.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The one bit of solace that the Doctor could take out of all of this was that she had saved her coat. She’d left it draped over the TARDIS console, right before she’d dashed out. She and Yaz had aided the slave rebellion, they’d had a whole talk with the rulers, and then she’d remembered a pesky little bit of technology (one of those handy little drones) she’d left by the castle wall of the main slaveholder, and then… she’d been captured. </p><p>	At least she’d destroyed the drone before they’d had a chance to get their filthy paws on it. She didn’t want to think of what this lot could do with <i>that</i> kind of technology. </p><p>	And okay, there were other solaces. Like the fact that she knew for a fact that Yaz was going to rescue her, because Yaz was smart and kind, and she’d trust the other woman to the ends of the universe and back. </p><p>	But. </p><p>	Well.</p><p>	It was hard to remember that, as she was stripped naked, shoved into the stocks in the middle of the compound, bent in half with a blindfold over her eyes. Her back was already beginning to ache, and her skin was prickling from the cooler air. The blindfold was humiliating in its own way, but it was better than having to see all the goose pimples, or the way her nipples were hard. </p><p>	She could hear the gathering around her, rustling and shuffling, the sounds of cloth moving against fur and leather. The people of this planet reminded her a little bit of the Loba, the peaceful dog like beings she’d helped all those years ago. Same general physiology, very different attitude. </p><p>	Of course, she <i>would</i> land on a planet where the slave species looked like humans. Of <i>course</i>. </p><p>	“This one has been saying that we’re the same, hairless and furred,” the slaveholde was saying. He was a big man, with a broad chest, and fur coloring like a rottweiler. “That our beloved pets and animals are, in fact, people, and not just a misshapen, pathetic mistakes put upon the land for us to tend to.” </p><p>	The Doctor rolled her eyes behind her blindfold. <i>Any time now would be good, Yaz</i>, she thought, and she shifted, trying to find a way to stay bent over without sticking her backside out any further than she needed to. </p><p>	<i>I left the sonic in my coat pocket, double stupid idea,</i> she thought idly as he ranted away. She could, in theory, interrupt and do some clarifications, but it would be tricky to talk her way out of this one. Especially naked. </p><p>There were more cheers around her, and she rolled her eyes again. <i>Them as'll cheer at your speeches will cheer just as hard at your execution,</i> she thought. <i>That's how the saying goes, right?</i> They were trying to humiliate her, which… eh. Whatever. </p><p>She had been naked before. She would be naked again. A body was a body, and if they wanted to gawk at her current body and think it embarrassed her, let them. </p><p>A hand pinching her nose shut, forcing her to open her mouth, and then something hot and wet being pushed into her mouth. It tasted like salt, and it was smooth and velvety against her tongue.</p><p>	“If we’re all the same,” said the dog-man, as he shoved his cock into her mouth, “then I am not fucking an animal. It’s all perfectly reasonable. I’d never use an animal like this.” He grunted, and his cock had a tapered, almost pointed tip that slid into her mouth, “but that’s fine, since she’s a person.” He held her face in his furry hands, and she didn’t bite him, as satisfying as it would be. “Aren’t you happy that you’re a person, and not a slave? If you were a slave, I’d be taking care of you.”</p><p>	She took the cock in her mouth, as her jaw began to ache, and she tried to think of other things. <i>When this is all done, I’m going to need to brush my teeth</i>, she thought distantly. <i>I remember giving Martha that toothbrush. I should get more Venusian spearmint.</i></p><p>	The cock in her mouth was forced down her throat, and she gagged. Her nose was pressed into a hairy belly, and the cock in her mouth was getting thicker at the base, more bulbous.</p><p>	<i>I guess they are canine adjacent</i>, she thought, as her jaw was stretched and she was forced to take the knot. <i>Look at me, being all clinical about this. Good on me.</i> There was wetness trickling down her cheeks, and maybe it was tears and maybe it was sweat, but she wasn’t going to worry about that right now. </p><p>	The thick, sticky come that shot out dripped down her chin, and it tasted rank and salty. She wrinkled her nose, and let it drip down her chin.</p><p>	“We’ll let the people decide if you’re a person or not,” the blowhard said, patting her cheek with one furry paw. “If I were you, I’d hope to not be a person.” He ran a hand through her hair, forcing it back from her face. “We treat our animals well.”</p><p>	With his come still drying on her face, he left her to stand naked in the middle of their compound, still bent double by the stocks.</p><p>* * * </p><p>	She was left alone (or at least, she wasn’t touched - they may have been pointing and having very intense conversations in a signed language, for all she knew). When the first touch landed on her flank, she flinched. </p><p>	“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” said a voice, and it was a young voice. The hand stroking along her flank had pads, and there were hints of soft fur, raising goosebumps down her side. </p><p>	“Well,’ said another voice, and that one seemed to belong to the bigger hand, “if they’re saying they’re people…” There were hands on her arse now, spreading her open. She hated it, and she tried to press her knees together, only to have them shoved apart again. </p><p>	A finger was probing between her legs, jabbing at her cunt, and she yelped.</p><p>	“That’s disgusting,” said the young voice.</p><p>	“It isn’t,” said the older voice. “It’s lovely and warm inside, all velvet.” </p><p>	Another hand came out to rub her clit, and she hissed, her eyes squeezing shut behind her blindfold. </p><p>	“What’s that for?” The younger voice still sounded scandalized. </p><p>	“You need to make sure it’s properly aroused,” said the older voice. “I’ve helped breed slaves before. If they’re not properly prepared, they can tear like anything, or even die.”</p><p>	The Doctor hissed through her teeth, as more horrible pleasure began to coil at the base of her spine and deep in her belly. She was curling her toes in the grass, and she was trying not to rock her hips back into it. </p><p>	There were two fingers in her cunt now, and her clit was still being rubbed. She tried to detach herself from it, from all of it, but she was just <i>there</i>, in her body. She went a little soft focus, just feeling the pleasure wash over her, and then there was the sound of an argument.</p><p>	“You’re seriously telling me to put my cock in <i>that</i>?!” The young voice sounded outraged.</p><p>	“Haven’t you ever been a bit curious about it? Wanted to know what it felt like?” A slap on her arse, and she jumped. “Now’s your chance! Once in a lifetime!”</p><p>	“This is sick,” said the young voice, but… something hot and solid was being pushed into her. It was bigger than anything she’d had before, and she whimpered, and tried to pull away. She couldn’t, as squashed as she was by the stocks. She had to stand there and take it, as a cock was pressed into her cunt. </p><p>	She’d only experimented with the handle of a hairbrush before, Not something as big as this alien’s cock, which was pumping in and out of her at a rapid fire pace. She clenched around it, and the alien gasped and leaned over her, the fur of his belly soft against her back. </p><p>	“How does it feel?” The older voice asked.</p><p>	“Tighter than one of ours,” the young voice said. His hips were still pistoning rapidly, and she was grunting and gasping each time he shoved her forward. And then something thick and hot was pressing into her, and she whined.</p><p>	“No,” she whispered, but he wasn’t listening. “No, please.” </p><p>	He shoved his knot into her, and then there was a wash of heat, as he came and came inside of her, wet and sticky. Some of it dripped out of her, around the knot, and her cunt clenched around him convulsively. She was <i>just</i> aroused enough for it to be a tease, and she hated it. </p><p>	He pulled out of her a few minutes later, and then there was another cock pressing against her cunt, pushing in, and she groaned. She was sore, and she was already tired of it. She just stood there, aware of the way her cunt was squeezing, the way her breasts were hanging there, jiggling, the way her calves were starting to cramp. She was knotted again, and it was a little less painful this time. </p><p>	When they both walked away, she let herself relax, just a bit. Maybe those two were the only perverts who’d be willing to fuck an “animal” (she resented that, honestly), and the rest would leave her alone.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	There was a steady stream of aliens coming to her. Usually a wait of about five minutes between each one, but they seemed endlessly fascinated by her. One of them spend a good five minutes playing with her breasts, then walking off, while another couldn’t seem to get enough of her hairlessness, hands running along the bare skin of her belly and back. </p><p>	A tongue was forced into her arse at one point, and she might have started to cry at that, although it was all entirely silent. There had been a big, blunt paw rubbing her clit at the same time, and the orgasm that was wrung out of her was the most shameful of her life. She was all out sobbing as the thick cock (greased up with who even knew what, but still there) was shoved into her arse, and then another was put into her mouth. </p><p>	At one point, there was something in her arse, in her cunt, in her mouth. There was chatter around her, and she’d never been so grateful for a blindfold in her life. She didn’t know what she’d do with herself otherwise. </p><p>	And then she heard something familiar, and the relief that hit her was like a cricket bat to the back of the head. </p><p>	The whirr of her sonic screwdriver, and the groan of the TARDIS.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Thirteen/Yaz, Rape with an Audience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has some bonus underage Yaz, so proceed with caution if underage/age gap ain't your thing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yasmin Khan realized she was in over her head approximately forty five minutes into the party.</p><p>	It had been her girlfriend's idea to come to this party in the first place - apparently one of her mate’s had just gotten a really nice house (“like, uber huge, can you believe it, in this economy?” ) and was throwing some kind of big blow out.</p><p>	And okay, so maybe Yaz’s girlfriend was a little older. And maybe it was a <i>tiny</i> bit illegal, but… well, nobody had to know the specifics, right? </p><p>	Like the fact that Yaz had lied about her age on Twitter, flirted with a cute girl, and gone to meet her at a cafe, then burst into tears when the (beautiful, charming, funny) woman had asked how old she was. After the panicked conversation they had (hissed over their water glasses), and the much longer conversation about the importance of discretion and privacy (in Jane’s old blue station wagon, which seemed <i>enormous</i> on the inside), and they’d agreed to try dating, and then Jane had eaten Yaz out on the big back seat and made her come so hard that she’d seen stars in the middle of the day. </p><p>	And Yaz had thought that this would be a totally normal grown up party - Jane had taken her to a few of those, although she usually kept her mouth shut and stuck close to Jane in those cases. Most of them they just showed up for an hour, stood around eating fiddly food on sticks (Yaz was developing a taste for weird, fiddly food on sticks), and made vague conversation without mentioning that she was young enough that she was still too young to be let into certain movies.</p><p>	But they were sitting at an actual dinner table, and they were just… eating. There were a few more… ribald (that was a good word, Jane had taught her that one) jokes whizzing through the air than she was used to, but then again, these adults seemed a bit less stuffy than the types that were usually at these parties.</p><p>	And then the man who was sitting across from Yaz had told the woman sitting next to him to get on her knees, and instead of everyone reacting like normal (what would even be a normal reaction to <i>that</i>, anyway?) there was a comment that the woman “might as well make herself useful” and then… well.</p><p>	Yaz was frozen in place, as she watched the back of the woman’s head bob up and down in the man’s lap. Her hair was very red, and the man’s hands were tangled in it, tugging it. She glanced up to his face, and saw that his head was tilted back, his mouth wide open. He was moaning, and there were people around them watching appreciatively. </p><p>	“You ever done that?” Jane whispered in Yaz’s ear.</p><p>	Yaz jumped, jerked her eyes away to look at Jane. “N-no,” she mumbled, and she licked her lips, acutely aware of how quiet it was. Everyone was <i>watching</i>. </p><p>	“You haven’t done much in general, have you? I remember you mentioning that.” Jane nuzzled into Yaz’s temple, kissed it. She didn’t seem bothered by what was going on over there, and her eyes kept flicking over to Yaz. </p><p>	“Yeah,” Yaz breathed. She couldn’t seem to stop watching. It was quiet enough that she could hear everyone breathing, and the wet sounds the woman’s mouth was making. She couldn’t see his prick, thankfully. She might <i>die</i> if she did.</p><p>	The man made a strangled, gasping noise, and then he slumped back, panting. The woman came out from under the table, wiping the back of her mouth, and Yaz couldn’t stop staring at how shiny her mouth looked. </p><p>	She was covered in goosebumps, and she was pressing her thighs together. She didn’t know if she was horny or embarrassed, but her heart was very loud in her ears, and her face was very hot. When Jane’s fingers rested on her chin, she let her face be turned towards Jane’s. Then she was being kissed, Jane’s tongue in her mouth, Jane’s fingers trailing across her face, stroking through her hair. She’d worn it loose, on Janes’ request. </p><p>	Yaz pulled back, blinking, her eyes darting around. All the eyes in the room were on her and Jane. </p><p>	“Sh,” Jane whispered, right up against Yaz’s lips, and she used her leverage on Yaz’s hair to keep them eye to eye. “Pay attention to me, darling.”</p><p>	“Everyone’s watching us,” Yaz whispered. She could almost feel their stares on her skin.</p><p>	“Don’t worry about it,” Jane said, then; “remember when you said you wanted me to tie you up?” She tugged the scarf off of her neck, and she raised an eyebrow. </p><p>	“But that was… at home,” Yaz mumbled. “In bed.” Jane’s bed - she’d never had Jane over before, since… well, she lived with her parents, and the neighbors would talk if they saw a strange woman going into their apartment. </p><p>	“It’s our turn, baby,” Jane said, and she kissed along Yaz’s neck, finding that one sweet spot that always made Yaz’s whole body go a little bit limp. She dug her teeth in, almost enough to leave a mark, then let go. “C’mon. You don’t want to disappoint everyone, do you?”</p><p>	“N-no,” Yaz mumbled. </p><p>	“I’ll just tie you up, it’ll be fine,” Jane said, and she was standing up, coming behind Yaz. “I’d protect you from anything dangerous,” she promised Yaz, and she tilted Yaz’s head back so that Yaz was looking at her upside down. “Do you trust me, Yaz?”</p><p>	And Yaz nodded, because she did. She’d trust Jane to the ends of the universe and back.</p><p>	The scarf was tied carefully around her wrists and the slats of the chair. Chatter had resumed around the room, and Yaz relaxed, just a bit. It meant that nobody was paying any attention to them. Maybe they’d just… get bored, Maybe Jane would get bored, and they could go back to Jane’s flat and fuck and cuddle and watch a movie and order takeaway and do anything but sit in this fancy dining room. </p><p>	Jane came up behind Yaz, and she was nuzzling into Yaz’s neck. Her hands were running up and down Yaz’s arms, and Yaz closed her eyes, tilted her head back and let herself be touched. She hadn’t realized how desperate she was to be touched by someone else, not until she was getting it regularly with Jane. And the vague restless energy that had been plaguing her since she’d first hit puberty… that had turned out to be arousal.</p><p>	“Show us her tits, Janey,” a woman called.</p><p>	“Yeah,” someone else said. “Show us her tits!”</p><p>	<i>She wouldn’t</i>, Yaz thought dazedly, and then the neck of her dress was being pushed down, and... oh no.</p><p>	“Oh, those are lovely,” said someone, and Yaz looked up, to see a man staring at her breasts, enraptured. </p><p>	Her eyes darted around, and she saw more sets of eyes resting on her bare breasts. A few of them smirked when they met her eyes, and she bit her lip, looked down. <i>This isn’t how this is supposed to go</i>, she thought wildly, as Jane’s hands kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipples and twisting them just the way she liked. Her back arched involuntarily, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning. </p><p>	“How d’they feel, Janey?” That voice sounded labored, and when Yaz looked over, she saw that the man speaking was rubbing his cock through his trousers. Oh god. </p><p>	“So good,” Jane said. “Soft, warm. I love her nipples - they’re so little and puffy, and look how hard they get.” Another little tug, sharp and sudden and out of nowhere. Yaz squeaked, and the whole table <i>laughed</i>, as if she were a kitten doing something cute. </p><p>	“Where’d you get this one, anyway?” A woman, and the woman next to her was kneading her breast, flicking the nipple idly like she was twiddling a dial. </p><p>	“Can’t share all my secrets, can I?” Jane said, and she was so <i>personable</i> as she talked, as if they were at a restaurant or some kind of seminar. </p><p>	Yaz could feel a sob building up in her chest, and she swallowed it down, hiccuped. She was <i>not</i> going to cry in front of these people. She wasn’t.</p><p>	Jane came around, and she straddled Yaz’s lap. She kissed Yaz, still playing with Yaz’s tits, and her tongue was sour and familiar in Yaz’s mouth, her lips moving gently along Yaz’s breasts to Yaz’s sides. “You’re the most beautiful girl in this room,” she told Yaz, her tone solemn. “I mean it.” She pressed her forehead against Yaz’s, then rubbed their noses together in a bunny kiss.</p><p>	“Y’really mean it?” Yaz’s voice cracked. She was aroused and embarrassed, and she didn't know what to do with herself. She pressed her thighs together, and she was acutely aware of how wet she was, how sticky it was against her inner thighs. </p><p>	“Definitely,” Jane said firmly. She slid off of Yaz’s lap, and now she was… moving between Yaz’s legs? Wait. </p><p>	“Jane?” Yaz kept her voice low. It was still very quiet in the room, and everyone seemed to be watching. She could hear more wet skin on skin noises, see hands moving under fabric. She didn't want to think about it too much. </p><p>	She wanted to go home. </p><p>	Jane was pushing her thighs open, and she couldn’t seem to stop her. Her knickers were being pushed off to one side, and Jane’s tongue was on her pussy, licking along her slit, then swirling along her clit. </p><p>	Yaz’s head lolled back, and her mouth fell open. She squeezed her eyes closed, but she could feel their eyes on her - Jane had pushed the chair back, so everyone could <i>see</i>. Their eyes were all on her face, on her tits, on Jane’s blond head moving between her thighs.</p><p>	Jane made a greedy wet noise and sucked on <i>something</i>, and Yaz whimpered. A finger was being carefully pressed inside of her, and then another. She was stretched, and she wanted to <i>die</i>, wanted all of this to be over. Her toes were curling, and her hips were starting to rock, just a little bit. </p><p>	She wished she was back in Jane’s bed, or bent over Jane’ kitchen table, or sat on the desk at Jane’s office. She wished it were like their first time, the two of them in the blue station wagon in the dark corner behind the old housing estate. She remembered lying on her back as Jane licked her and licked her, and she shuddered, the arousal sluicing over her like oil dumped from a bucket. </p><p>	She heard the noises people were making, and her eyes slid open, slowly, to see all the other eyes on her. She was sobbing as she came, the pleasure like a fishhook yanking at her guts, leaving her cunt spasming desperately around Jane’s fingers.</p><p>	“Such a good girl,” Jane mumbled into Yaz’s thigh, and she gave it a wet, loud kiss. “Didn’t seh do a good job?” Her voice was a little louder this time.</p><p>	Yaz squirmed, trying to ignore the tears prickling the edges of her eyes, and she looked into Jane’s face. It was red, shiny of lip and damp of chin. </p><p>	“You did good,” Jane said, planting a kiss on Yaz’s mons, then sitting next to her and kissing her cheek. “Now,” Jane said, wrapping an arm around Yaz’s shoulders and cheerfully grabbing one breast, “whose turn is it?” </p><p>	Yaz’s stomach dropped. She wasn’t going to get untied yet, was she? She shot a beseeching glance at Jane, but the other woman was staring raptly at the woman caddy corner to them, who was having her shirt unbuttoned. </p><p>	Yaz hated how her own gaze was drawn to the other woman’s hard brown nipples and smooth, soft skin, remembering the feeling of all those gazes on her like insect’s feet.</p><p>	And yet, she couldn’t seem to look away.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Dhawan!Master/Thirteen, Incest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>2 AUs in the row! Go figure, eh?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jen flopped back onto the creaking leather couch and stared up at the exposed ceiling beams of her father’s fancy old hunting lodge. </p><p>	Who even had a hunting lodge? Hunting wasn’t the sort of thing you needed a <i>lodge</i> for. Who hunted in the United Kingdom, in this day and age?</p><p>	Her half brother caught her eye, and he raised an eyebrow. </p><p>	Jen flushed, looked down at her hands. Their father was still reading his newspaper, and was otherwise ignoring them. </p><p>	How nice it was, to have a rich philanderer for a father who had showed up at her mother’s house when she was two, who forced her to come stay in his <i>hunting lodge</i> (what a load of posh nonsense) every summer with all her other siblings. </p><p>	There had been eight of them originally, but one by one, they’d all stopped coming. Now, at age eighteen, her and her brother Owen were the only ones left. </p><p>	They were paid a tidy sum of money at the end of it all, and their mothers were well provided for, but… well. </p><p>	“I’d rather go back to working as a temp,” said her sister Missy. “In fact, I’d rather get a job lying on my back with my legs wide open if it meant that I didn’t have to look at his smug face ever again.” </p><p>	Jen hadn’t agreed with her at the time… but she was beginning to see the point.</p><p>	“I’m going to head to bed,” she said, and she stood up, dusted off her knees. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night Dad, O.”</p><p>	“Night, Jen,” said Owen, and he had his own book in his lap, but kept looking from it to her face. </p><p>	Their father grunted, and the paper rustled.</p><p>* * * </p><p>	Jen brushed her teeth in the old bathroom, staring at her own reflection. She took after her mother, although she’d inherited her father’s hazel eyes and there was something of him about her chin. </p><p>	None of the disparate siblings looked alike, until you put all of them next to their father, at which point the similarities would start to shine through, just a bit. What her mother had seen in her father Jen would never understand, but… well, there were a lot of things about her mother she’d never understood. </p><p>	“Christ, the old man is in a mood today,” said Owen as he opened the door, leaning on the frame. </p><p>	“Jesus, Owen,” Jen yelped, turning around quickly. “I could’ve been changing!”</p><p>	“Not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” Owen said, rolling his eyes. “We took baths in that tub, remember?” He jerked a thumb over at the claw footed tub that took up most of the bathroom floor. </p><p>	“We were younger,” Jen said. “Much younger.” She was wearing a pair of sleep shorts and an old tank top, since the creaky old house didn’t have any air conditioning, and she was acutely aware of the way his eyes flitted from her face to her collarbones to the line of her legs in her shorts back to her face.</p><p>	“I wouldn’t mind hopping in the tub with you again,” he said, and he smiled at her, his teeth very white and his eyes shadowed in the dimness of the bathroom. </p><p>	“Fuck off, Owen,” Jen said, and she took a swig of water from her filled mug, swishing it around her mouth and spitting it into the sink. </p><p>	“So a spitter, then,” he said, and he was still smirking. </p><p>	She narrowed her eyes and shoved her way past him. The floorboards were very loud as she made her way across them, and the door’s hinge squealed. </p><p>	The whole place felt like bad taxidermy, crumbling and stiff at the edges. She’d only agreed to come this summer because dear old dad was footing her tuition, and even then she was beginning to regret it. </p><p>	She and Owen had been close, back in the day. They were almost the same age (born less than a week apart - Dad must have  been <i>busy</i> back then), they’d come from similar backgrounds (working class, albeit from different bits of the country), and they’d both been weird kids. He’d gotten… weird as they’d gotten older, in ways that she couldn’t entirely put her finger on. Her brothers all had an odd restlessness to them; maybe something inherited from their father? </p><p>	She sighed, turning off her bedside lamp and rolling onto her stomach. She pressed her face into the slightly musty scent of her pillow and kicked her blankets down around her feet. She’d pull them back up over herself when it got cold, and probably wake up sweating. </p><p>	Fucking mountains. </p><p>* * * </p><p>	The sound of creaking floorboards pulled her out of her sleep, some time later. She’d gotten cold enough to pull her blankets back up over her legs. <i>Wonder who that is</i>, floated through her head. The elderly housekeeper was in bed by seven, and Dad never came up this way. Owen’s room was down on the other end of the hall, but if he wanted to go out he usually just climbed the trellis by his bedroom window, since that was quieter, and Dad never noticed. </p><p>	Since Missy had stopped coming to these summers, it was just Jen and Owen. At times it almost felt like the two of them were waiting out to see who would last longer, but… well.</p><p>	Well. </p><p>	She fell asleep still thinking about her brother, and whatever strange new energy was simmering between the two of them. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	She woke up again to the creak of her bedroom door, a brief flash of light from the hallway. There was the sound of thunder, a flash of lightning, and she could faintly make out the patter of rain on the roof above her. She blinked, her head still fuzzy with sleep, and she could make out the vague outline of… someone. Then the door closed, and it was dark again. She could hear more creaking footsteps making their way towards her, and she sat up muzzily. </p><p>	“Only me,” said Owen, and then he was <i>climbing into bed with her</i>? </p><p>	“What are you doing?” Jen hissed. </p><p>	He lifted the blankets, then crawled in, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. </p><p>	“Owen,” Jen said, “what are you <i>doing</i>? Why are you in here?”</p><p>	“We used to sleep together,” Owen said, and he snuggled in closer. “Remember when we were little, we always used to sleep together during storms.” </p><p>	She softened in spite of herself, and lay flat on the bed. For all that he’d turned into an arsehole, maybe her brother was in there somewhere. “Are you still afraid of thunder?”</p><p>	“Something like that,” he said. “Go to sleep, Jemmy.” </p><p>	She sighed, and she rolled onto her side. His breath was hot on the back of her neck, and it reminded her of when they were young, cuddled up together under the duvet in that huge, terrifying house and tried not to think about just how homesick they were. </p><p>	She couldn’t exactly… relax with him lying next to her. It would be like sleeping next to some great cat. But she was so tired, and some old sense memory of being held like this by him seemed to well up. She fell asleep, yet again, the scent of him filling her head like so much smoke.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	Jen was woken up by something prodding between her legs. Her tank top had been pushed down under her tits, and there was a hand down the front of her pajama shorts.</p><p>	Owen was breathing heavily against the back of her neck, and he was rubbing her clit rhythmically. She could feel the hardness of his erection, prodding her backside like a hot, sticky interruption.</p><p>	“Owen,” Jen mumbled, confused, and she shifted. She was so wet, <i>so</i> wet, and she could hear the squelch of it as he kept rubbing her, his fingers slipping between her labia to collect more wetness to rub on her clit. </p><p>	“Shush,” he said asbently.</p><p>	“Owen,” Jen said, a little more loudly. She made a disgusted noise as the shaft of his erection was shoved between her thighs. He used the hand down her trousers to press the head up against her clit, and she gasped at the shock of pleasure that went through her. Her cunt was spasming, and her whole body was trembling. </p><p>	He had an arm up under her now, and he had grabbed her breast, twisting the nipple. He clutched her closer to him, nuzzling into her hair. “God, Jenny,” he murmured, and he mouthed at her ear. “It isn’t fair, how hot you got.” </p><p>	“Owen, I’m your <i>sister</i>,” Jen ground out. She tried to sit up, and he yanked her back down by the nipple, rubbing her clit a little harder. How long had he been doing this? She was already desperate and sticky, her thighs smeared and her sleep shorts over-saturated. </p><p>	“Barely,” he said, and he nipped her ear.</p><p>	She moaned, and then she groaned. “No, Owen, stop it, don’t,” she said, aware she was babbling.</p><p>	“For fuck sake,” Owen said, and he shoved her over. She was flat on her belly now, her face in the pillow. She could barely breathe, and she was concentrating on catching her breath when his cock slid into her in one long stroke.</p><p>	“No,” Jen mumbled, but he was ignoring her, his big body draped over hers as he began to thrust into her at a fast, desperate pace.</p><p>	<i>Rabbit fuck</i>, she thought dazedly, remembering something she’d read in one of the old shelves of erotica their father had in the library. <i>When they do it like this, it’s a rabbit fuck.</i> He was humping her desperately, fast, buried as deep as he could be and barely taking himself out.</p><p>	She was clenching around him, and the way he kept pushing her forward was rubbing her clit against the sheets. The lack of oxygen from the pillow in her face was making her lightheaded, dizzy, and it had the air of a dream. She came, sobbing into her pillow, and he groaned, shuddering inside of her. </p><p>	“Fuck, you feel so good inside, you feel as good as I knew you would, fuck, Jenny, Jenny, <i>Jenny</i>!” He bit her shoulder and sheathed himself all the way inside of her, his cock pulsing like a star inside of her. </p><p>	She went limp, as he pulled himself out and lay on top of her. He kissed the spot he’d bitten, and nuzzled into her neck “Summers at this old place will at least get more interesting,” he said, almost absently, and her cunt gave another uncomfortable little twitch.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Missy/Yaz, Forced Oral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love writing Missy. She's just such a <i>jerk</i>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz was sitting on one of the TARDIS counters, carefully peeling potato after potato. The peels were dropped into the bowl in her lap, and the peeled potatoes were put in the bowl in the sink. </p><p>	“See, the trick is, when you’re using oil for frying, you <i>don’t</i> want to use olive oil, ‘cause it’s got a low smoke point. So a low smoke point is handy if you need to set off a fire extinguisher. Did I ever tell you about the time I went to the Great Earth Bakeoff?”</p><p>	“You didn’t,” Yaz said. “I thought you weren’t any good at baking.”</p><p>	“I can’t make a meringue,” the Doctor protested. “That’s different from being no good at baking at all! Baking is fiddly. You need to use exact measurements!” She put the chopped potatoes into another bowl. </p><p>	Yaz snorted, carefully peeling the other potato. Her skirt swished, and the contrast of her bare shins against the lime green cabinets kept catching her off guard. </p><p>	“But I wasn’t actually there to win the bake off,” said the Doctor, her tone absent minded as she chopped. “See, there was a criminal on the run who’d stolen -”</p><p>	The Doctor was interrupted from what was probably going to be a daft, confusing ramble by the loud, clanging peal of a bell.</p><p>	Yaz jumped, and put the bowl of potato peelings on the counter next to her. “What was that?”</p><p>	“Not good,” the Doctor said, and she put down the knife and wiped her hands on the apron she’d put on. There was another loud <i>clang</i>, and she was running off. </p><p>	“Well,” Yaz said into the empty kitchen. The bell was loud enough to echo through the whole TARDIS, and she hadn’t even been aware that something could be that loud.</p><p>	“She always was the over dramatic type,” said a familiar voice from the door frame, and Yaz’s head whipped over, and her eyes widened. </p><p>	“What are you doing here?” Yaz’s tongue was very thick in her mouth. “Didn’t the Doctor kick you off?”</p><p>	“Oh, I always have my ways of getting about,” Missy said, and she smiled with a few too many teeth. “I’m like a cat that way.” Quicker than she had any right to be, she was standing right in front of Yaz, her hands on Yaz’s thighs. “Quite a nice get up you’ve got on, too. Did you enjoy the nineteen sixties? I see you’re still dressed from the trip. Did she take you to Woodstock? She’s always liked Woodstock. Claims to be buddies with Janis Joplin, although straight from the horse’s mouth, I know Janis was never too fond of her.”</p><p>	“How did you get on the TARDIS?” Yaz glared at Missy. She’d never been fond of the Time Lady, and being in the same room as Missy without the Doctor always left her on edge. </p><p>	“I’m like a cat, I get where I want,” Missy said cheerfully. She squeezed Yaz’s thighs, and then she began to spread them open. </p><p>	Yaz put up some resistance, but it was ignored, as if the slight woman in front of her was strong enough to just… force her. Which she was, wasn’t she? </p><p>	“What do you want?” Yaz’s voice was very quiet. </p><p>	“Oh, all the things that every girl wants,” Missy said lightly. “A pony, a disintegrator ray, my girlfriend to pay attention to me and not her newest little pet…” She pinched Yaz’s inner thigh, and Yaz hissed through her teeth.</p><p>	“I’ll scream,” Yaz warned, and she really hated how much her voice was shaking.</p><p>	“Oh, I look forward to it,” Missy said cheerfully. She was standing between Yaz’s spread legs now, and she’d grabbed the fabric of the skirt, hauling it up. Yaz pressed down on her skirt, trying to keep it, but there was just so much fabric that even when she kept one part down, Missy would just push up the other. </p><p>	“The Doctor won’t let you get away with this,” Yaz said, and her voice had too much squeak to be comfortable. Missy had gotten the skirt up high enough that she could see Yaz’s knickers, and she was smiling down at them like the cat that got the cream.</p><p>	… Horrible metaphor in a time like this. </p><p>	“The Doctor is far too busy dealing with the cut compressor coil and broken shock absorbing socket to think of her little pet right about now,” Missy said, and she grabbed the crotch of Yaz’s knickers and yanked, tearing it right open.</p><p>	How was she so <i>strong</i>?!</p><p>	“How do you -” Yaz began.</p><p>	“Because I did it myself, silly,” Missy said, as if she was talking to a very slow child. She pushed the ripped cotton to the side, and she looked down critically. “Well,” she said, running a thumb along the seam of Yaz’s labia, “I suppose this is what I’ve got to work with, then.”</p><p>	“Stop it,” Yaz said, and she tried to kick Missy, only to have her leg grabbed and shoved further open. “I’ll scream,” Yaz added. </p><p>	“Listen,” Missy said, and she gave Yaz’s leg a squeeze, hard enough that it set off the nerves uncomfortably, and Yaz gasped, chest heaving. “If you keep fighting me, I’ll break your legs and do what I want anyway. You,” she gave a twist, and it made Yaz’s vision swim on the edges, “really might as well accept it like a good little pet. She’ll get to you sooner or later, she always does. I’m just… breaking you in.” Her thumb passed over Yaz’s clit. “It’s not as if she’s checking you for a tamper proof seal, after all.” She chuckled. “You know, I’m at least <i>partially</i> responsible for those.”</p><p>	Yaz bared her teeth at Missy, her thighs clenching as the pleasure began to heat up in her guts. “Why are you doing this?”</p><p>	“The Doctor doesn’t like to share her toys,” Missy said, as her finger wormed its way between Yaz’s labia, collecting some wetness, then going back to her clit. “That doesn’t seem very fair, does it? We all learned about sharing in the nursery, and she didn’t seem to get the message.” She grabbed the back of Yaz’s knees, pulling Yaz towards the edge of the counter, and Yaz nearly fell over. </p><p>	“Stop it,” Yaz said, and her voice only shook a little bit.</p><p>	“No,” said Missy, as if they were disagreeing on a movie or a restaurant. She was bending forward now, tilting Yaz’s hips, and then her mouth was descending on Yaz’s vulva like a hawk on a rabbit.</p><p>	Yaz gasped at the first touch of Missy’s tongue, wriggling against it. Her legs were being pushed further open, and that must have been hard on Missy’s back. Her tongue was sliding along the line of Yaz’s labia, and then swirling over Yaz’s clit. </p><p>	“Mmm,” Missy murmured, and she sucked on one labia, then pulled back, angling her head to the side and shoving her tongue into Yaz’s cunt. Her nose was up against Yaz’s clit, and she was moving it back and forth slowly, deliberately. It was all so <i>much</i>, and Yaz hadn’t ever experienced anything like it before.</p><p>	The last person to eat her out had been her last girlfriend, and there hadn’t been this level of confidence. A confidence that was ranging on arrogance, and Yaz’s bare toes were curling against Missy’s sides as she was licked and licked, her eyes squeezing shut. Her own arousal was starting to drip down, mixing up with Missy’s spit. It was dripping over her arsehole, smearing across her thighs.</p><p>	“Look at you,” Missy said, pulling back and looking down at Yaz’s cunt, then up at Yaz’s face. “Wait until she sees you like this. She’ll eat you all up.” Then she was diving back down, her sharp little tongue stroking over Yaz’s clit in long, hard strokes. She was holding Yaz open with her thumbs, and she kept moving between paying attention to Yaz’s over-sensitive clit and fucking Yaz with her tongue. </p><p>	It was all so… wet. Too wet, too overwhelming, and it all felt too good to be with <i>Missy</i>. She wanted to do something like this with the Doctor, not this horrible woman who seemed determined to torment Yaz in all the myriad, petty ways a person could be tormented. </p><p>	And now Yaz was about to come on her tongue.</p><p>	Yaz cried as she came, tears dripping down her chin. </p><p>	“There we go,” Missy cooed. “We’ll show this to the Doctor, she’ll be thrilled. Loves herself a sloppy wet cunt.” There was the sound of footsteps down the hall. “Oh, she must’ve fixed that faster than I thought she did,” said Missy. “Must’ve gotten faster in her repairs since our academy days.”</p><p>	And Yaz cried harder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Thirteen/Dhawan!Master, Blood and Bruises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some age play in this one, because I can only hold off of my bullshit for so long. Also face slapping! Belting! Nose bleeds!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor lay on her small, cramped cot, and she stared at the wall. </p><p>	The Master had been giving her… something that seemed to be slowing her thoughts down. Enough to slow her reaction times and leave her thoughts just that much slower. It was taking more effort to figure out how to get out of this place the Master was keeping her.</p><p>	Although she’d already expended a goodly amount of effort trying to get out. He seemed to have sealed it up as tight as a drum. She’d paced, for the first… however long it had been.</p><p>	Whatever he was dosing her up with was doing something to her time sense as well, and that was chilling; to be a Time Lord and not be able to follow the passage of time itself was to be a drowning fish. </p><p>	So she lay on her little cot of a bed in her prisoner’s pajamas and she sulked and stared at the wall and tried to formulate a plan. It wasn’t working so well, but she could at least try to plan. </p><p>	The door opened, and the Master waltzed in. “Supper time,” he sing-songed, and then he frowned. “You didn’t eat your lunch.”</p><p>	“I’m not hungry,” the Doctor said flatly, still staring at the wall. </p><p>	“You need to eat,” the Master said, and there was the sound of the plate being set down next to the plate that was already on the night table. There was a creak of the mattress as he sat down, and then a hand on her head. </p><p>	“You’re drugging me with the food,” the Doctor said. “I don’t need to eat, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>	“You <i>do</i> need to eat,” the Master insisted, and the fingers of the hand on her head tangled in her hair, forcing her head up. He was leaning over her, blocking out the light, and she squinted at him. </p><p>	“I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “And I notice you don’t deny that you’re drugging me through the food.”</p><p>	“It’d be a waste of time to argue with you when you’ve made your mind up about something,” the Master said, and he pulled her hair again. “But you <i>need</i> to eat.”</p><p>	“I don’t want to eat,” the Doctor said. It might have been childish, but she had to take her victories where she could get it.</p><p>	“You need a bath as well,” the Master said, wiping his hand on the shoulder of her prison pajamas and wrinkling his nose. “You’re a greasy mess.”</p><p>	She ignored him.</p><p>	“You’re acting like a child,” the Master said sharply. He jerked her upright, and he drew her up, until her scalp was screaming.</p><p>	The Doctor squirmed against him, trying to stop, and then his hand drew back, and there was a loud noise. The pain hit her a moment later, and she gasped. There was a trickle of something wet down her clip, over her chin, and she reached a hand up to find her nose bleeding. </p><p>	“Not a good way to treat a child,” the Doctor said, and her voice was rough, stopped up. </p><p>	“Well, bad children get special treatment,” the Master said promptly. “Are you going to eat your dinner now?” He absently wiped the blood from her chin with his thumb, then licked it up. </p><p>	“No,” said the Doctor. This was turning into a battle of wills. They’d both always been stubborn, and who knew. Maybe she’d win.</p><p>	Maybe she needed to do <i>something</i> or else she’d start to drown in her own mind, and that was never a good look. </p><p>	The Master rolled his eyes theatrically, and he tugged her closer, still by the hair. “If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to punish you like a child. Do you understand that?”</p><p>	More blood dripped out of her nose, and then she was being… pulled over his lap?</p><p>	“What are you doing?” Her voice was a little strained, a little too nasal, and she was dripping blood down onto the sheets. Her hips were resting on top of his thighs, and she was shivering, her head still throbbing. </p><p>	“I’m punishing my bad little girl,” the Master said promptly, and he rested a hand on her backside, giving it a squeeze.</p><p>	The Doctor squirmed, her knees pressing into his thigh and her toes curling against the duvet. “You’re sick,” she said. </p><p>	“You’re going to be, if you keep not eating,” the Master said. He brought his hand down onto her backside, and the sound made her jump. </p><p>	“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the Doctor said, her voice thick. </p><p>	Another hit. “Don’t back talk,” he said sharply, and the next hit was to her thigh.</p><p>	The Doctor squirmed, and he dug his elbow into her back. “If you’d just do as you’re told, this would all go so much simpler,” he said, and he landed swat after swat on her backside, beginning to hit harder and harder. When she’d finally gone limp, he removed his elbow, and pushed his fingers into her mouth. </p><p>	She could taste her own blood, like copper, and she could feel his hands squeezing her backside. </p><p>	She bit him, and hard enough that she could taste <i>his</i> blood, and he snarled and yanked his fingers out of her mouth. </p><p>	“I’m clearly going too easy on you,” he snapped, and he yanked at the waist of her pajamas, pulling them down around her thighs. She could feel him fiddling around with… something around his waist, and he pulled something off from around his waist.</p><p>	<i>What’s going on?</i> He must have been up to something - she heard a faint jingle, and then... there was the first hit.</p><p>	It was a hard hit, and it lanced across her like a lighting bolt. She squealed, and that sent more warm blood down the back of her throat, which was… well, it wasn’t <i>nice</i>, to say the least. There was another hit, and another.</p><p>	<i>He must be hitting me with his belt</i>, the Doctor thought dazedly. Tears were tracking down her face, and then she <i>howled</i>, as one hit got her right on the thigh. She squirmed, trying to get away, and he hit her harder. </p><p>	“Bad girls who don’t do as they're told get punished,” the Master said, and even if he was trying to sound bored and detached, there was that same manic intensity that sometimes crawled through his words like maggots. “Bad little girls who don’t listen get punished until they’re good little girls.” He was still beating her, and the slaps were loud enough to ring through the whole room. </p><p>	The Doctor couldn’t seem to stop crying, and the Master was making exertion noises with each hit. It all blurred together into one painful hit, and she was throbbing below the waist. The pain would have been bearable, if it weren’t for the arousal, which seemed to be worming its way through her. Her mouth was full of the salt and iron of her blood, and she was still <i>crying</i>, great, wailing sobs that shook her whole body, and the pain and the arousal was all mixing itself up inside of her, leaving her a churning mess.</p><p>	“Have you learned your lesson, my dear?” The Master’s voice was a purr. </p><p>	She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have it in her to say anything especially snarky, but she couldn’t go along with him, even if she wanted to. That just wasn’t in her nature.</p><p>	The Master tsked, and his fingers reached between her thighs. He prodded her cunt, and then he snickered. “After all that complaining you did,” he said, in a scolding tone, and he dug his fingers into a sore spot on her arse. “Oh, look at that. Turning purple already.”</p><p>	The Doctor gasped, tensing up. The blood on her face was going tacky, mixing up with her sticky tears. She was tired and sore enough to let herself be maneuvered back onto the bed, and she whimpered quietly as the Master shoved her pajama pants all the way off, spreading her legs. The tips of his fingers collected her wetness, and smeared it into her thigh.</p><p>	“After all that complaining you did,” he said, his tone light, teasing. He was spreading her thighs wider, and then… </p><p>	“No,” the Doctor said, as something blunt and hot pressed against the entrance of her cunt. “No, I’ll eat.”</p><p>	“Oh, I know,” the Master said, as he pushed himself all the way into her with a grunt. “But… might as well enjoy myself.” He groaned, circling his hips, as deep inside of her as he could get. He was looming over her, and his own belly pressed against her overheated backside.</p><p>	“As if you didn’t… didn’t enjoy beating me,” the Doctor mumbled. She hated how wet she was, hated how her whole cunt was clutching him in a vice. She shouldn’t have wanted this so badly, shouldn’t have been trembling with want. She didn’t want <i>this</i> her body was just… reacting to stimulus.</p><p>	But what stimulus it was.</p><p>	She groaned, and the way he was pushing her across the bed was stimulating her clit, and she whimpered into the pillow, trying to just be a body in a bed. Trying to just let herself succumb to the pleasure.</p><p>	And then he pulled out.</p><p>	“What -” </p><p>	“Shush, sweetheart,” he said, and he was… holding the cheeks of her arse open. He was digging into the bruises, and that was too much, she was going to cry or pass out, she could only take so much and she was reaching her peak.</p><p>	Whatever it was that he had been giving her seemed to be messing with her emotional regulation, because she was crying as the Master slowly penetrated her arse, aided by the slick lubrication from her cunt. He grunted and gasped, still holding her arse open, and then he pinched another tender bruise.</p><p>	“Lookit that,” he said, and his voice sounded rough. “Look at how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He was beginning to thrust, picking up speed, and she hated how much even <i>that</i> was feeding the arousal inside of her. She wanted to come. She wanted to be anywhere but here, but oh, he was pushing her closer and closer…</p><p>	The Doctor went away for a little bit. It was a bit like dolphins, how they slept with only half their brains. She only inhabited a little bit of herself. She was aware, distantly, of her body experiencing whatever it was experiencing - the thrust of his hips, the pain as he dug into the bruises, the thick, hot, heaviness of his cock inside of her. The rest of her was… elsewhere. Not even in any particular elsewhere, just elsewhere</p><p>	Then the Master’s fingers were on her clit, and her whole body seized up. She sobbed, and she hated the stomach churning pleasure that was rocketing through her, leaving her limp as he rubbed in time with her thrusts, his other hand still digging into her arse.</p><p>	“Be a good girl for me, sweetheart,” the Master crooned. His voice was low, almost a growl. “Be a good girl and come for me, come on my cock, come on my cock while it fucks your arse, there’s a good girl, there’s a….” </p><p>	She came, ashamed and shuddering, sticky and wet. Her own blood was still sticky against her face, and her cunt was still pulsing around nothing, her arse still stuffed full. He groaned, and he came inside of her, a wash of heat inside of her. </p><p>	“Good… good girl,” the Master said, and he nuzzled into her neck. “When I pull out,” he told her, “we’ll give you a nice bath, and then you can eat some dinner.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she could feel him smiling against her cheek as she sobbed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Yaz/Thirteen/Dhawan!Master, Mindbreak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic has some intense bodily horror, and I'm honestly not entirely sure how to tag this, but if you're uncomfortable with permanent body alteration via doing stuff to the mind, maybe don't read this. There's also some rape aftermath, which might not be for you either.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master woke up to the Doctor standing over him.</p><p>	Ordinarily, this would have been ideal. Sort of. Maybe not ideal-ideal, but at least better than waking up by himself again, still chained to the ever-cursed bed. She’d done something to keep him docile, something with his hormones and something with his mind.</p><p>	He had nightmares, still, he’d always had nightmares, but the ones that were drifting through his mind these days involved her sweet, gentle voice, her soft hands. </p><p>	She’d brought her pet this time. The one with the dark hair and the eyes that stared at him like an open wound, so tempting for him to jab his fingers into. Although that hadn’t been where he’d stuck his fingers. Fingers, and other parts of him. </p><p>	“I brought you here, Yaz, so you’d feel better,” said the Doctor. “I wanted to show you.” She crouched next to the bed, and she stroked the Master's face. He flinched away, and then whatever she’d been conditioning him with kept him in place. Her fingers were very soft as they ran through his hair, and he whimpered. </p><p>	He wanted to say something - wanted to remind the little pet what it had felt like, when he’d shoved his cock inside of her, the way he’d licked the tears off of her face. But even thinking about that made him start to shake, his teeth chattering like dice rattling in a cup. If he said anything he’d bite his tongue bloody, and then she’d make more concerned noises, maybe get some ice chips for him to suck on.</p><p>	“Doctor,” the pet said, and she was frowning. She was standing back, and she was rubbing her hands together, interlacing her fingers and cracking her knuckles. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, and he winced. </p><p>	“He’s perfectly harmless, Yaz, come see,” said the Doctor, and she gestured the pet over. </p><p>	The pet - Yaz - walked over slowly, nervously. She let the Doctor’s hand cover her own, let it be guided to his head. He shuddered under her touch, his eyes squeezing shut. “See? Perfectly safe. He can’t hurt you.” </p><p>	Yaz’s fingers curled in his hair, and she pulled, hard enough that he’d have yelped if he had use of his tongue. </p><p>	“Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice had enough gentle reprimand that it made him wince in anticipation, “that’s not very nice.”</p><p>	“I’m not feeling too nice, Doctor,” Yaz said, and her voice was thick. “He -”</p><p>	“I know,” the Doctor said, and her arms went around Yaz’s waist, resting her chin on Yaz’s shoulder. She nuzzled into Yaz’s neck, making soothing noises, and Yaz trembled. Her fingers were curling convulsively in his hair, and the little jolts of pain were like pinpricks, flashes of heat that moved across his skin like needle jabs. </p><p>	“I don’t know if this is right,” Yaz said, and her voice was thick. He’d always liked making their voices do that, back in the old days. But thinking of that sent another lance of pain through his head, and he groaned. He remembered the feel of her clenching around his cock, hot and wet. He’d shoved his mind against hers and forced the pleasure on her, just for the delight of her squeezing around his cock, and then she’d cried so hard she’d almost vomited, as he pushed himself deeper.</p><p>	“He can’t hurt anyone like this,” the Doctor said, her voice gentle. “I’ve made sure that he’s safe.” She ran a finger along the Master’s profile, giving him a little tap on the tip of his nose. </p><p>	He wrinkled it. </p><p>	“Are you sure?” Yaz’s cheeks were shiny with tears, and the Doctor clucked, collecting a few on her thumb and wiping them on her coat. </p><p>	“I’m absolutely sure,” the Doctor assured Yaz. “I even made sure that he can’t ever… do anything like he did to you.” She cleared her throat, and not she looked uncomfortable. </p><p>	“Doctor?” Yaz was frowning now, a deep line between her eyebrows. What if he sank his teeth into it, bit her whole face to pieces? He should have cut her up when he had the chance, should have left a present of her body at the -</p><p>	Another jolt of lancing, desperate pain through his head, hard enough that something important did… something, and he groaned, hot blood dripping out of his nose.</p><p>	The Doctor tsked again. “See, you need to behave yourself,” she told the Master, and she was talking to him as if he was a naughty puppy.</p><p>	“Doctor, what did you… do to him?” Yaz had <i>finally</i> let go of his hair, wiping her hand on her own trousers.</p><p>	‘Oh, you know,” the Doctor said. “Standard behavior modification. Added a few extra things. He won’t be able to hurt another living thing ever again, not without it killing him first. I bonded it to his regenerations, too.”</p><p>	“His regenerations?” God, the human sounded so stupid. He just wanted to -</p><p>	More pain, and he cried out this time, and went limp on the bed, gasping as his heart went a little too hard, his skull splitting open like he was going to pop some god out.</p><p>	That was a human legend, right? A goddess, popping out of her father’s head. There was the other one as well, with the eagle eating the one man’s liver. He’d always liked that one - there was a peversity to it that he didn’t often see in humans. </p><p>	“Are you feeling any less scared, Yaz?” The Doctor’s voice was so gentle, and he hated that it was directed at the human, except he <i>also</i> hated when that same voice was directed at him, it made him sick, made him angry, made him want to rip and tear and -</p><p>	The pain was so bad that he blacked out. When he came to again, the Doctor had propped him up with pillows, and she was dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.</p><p>	“You need to not push it so hard,” she scolded him. </p><p>	Yaz had retreated, clutching herself with both arms as if she was trying to hold her own guts in. Her eyes were getting red, and her nose was dripping. </p><p>	“He won’t be able to hurt you ever again, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and she gestured Yaz over. “I know you’re still afraid, but… let me show you something.”</p><p>	And then the Doctor was removing his trousers. She just… hooked her thumbs under the waistband of the soft cotton, and she lifted him up as if he was a baby, pulling them down. The air was cold against his cock, his balls, his thighs. He winced, and the Doctor patted him absently on the leg.</p><p>	“Doctor,” Yaz said, and now she sounded on the edge of panic.</p><p>	“Yaz,” the Doctor said, her tone entreating. She held a hand out, and the human - the stupid, <i>stupid</i> human - took it, let herself be led closer.</p><p>	“Look, see,” the Doctor said, and she wrapped her hand around the Master’s cock. </p><p>	It didn’t feel like anything. It was as if she was touching his knee, or the back of one shoulder. No sensitivity, no nothing. It wasn’t even numb, in a way that would have been interesting. </p><p>	“What did you do?” Yaz was staring down at his cock with distaste, and that was enough to make him feel a little better. He’d made her choke on it - maybe she remembered the feel of it, going down her throat.</p><p>	He should have been getting hard. Should have been swelling, plumping up with blood and pointing up towards his chin. He had countless memories of the Doctor’s fingers wrapping around his cock the way they were now. All their long, complicated history together.</p><p>	But nothing. He was still soft and limp, without even the satisfaction of friction as she squeezed him. </p><p>	“I didn’t do anything physical to him, don’t worry,” the Doctor said. “It’s all <i>entirely</i> mental suggestion.” She gave his cock another squeeze. “He won’t ever be able to use it again.” She turned to the Master, wagging a finger in his face. “When you don’t play nice with your toys, you get ‘em taken away.” Another squeeze. “D’you want to feel it, Yaz?”</p><p>	Yaz  approached, and she was shaking as she reached down. She squeezed his cock, just a little too hard, and her hot human skin was like <i>torture</i>. He wasn’t even sensitive, but it was still somehow too much. </p><p>	“See, look,” the Doctor said, in a coaxing, hopeful tone. “He can’t ever do anything with it again. I promise. It’s like it isn’t even there anymore.”</p><p>	“You castrated him,” Yaz said, and her voice was faintly shocked. “You just… you did that?”</p><p>	“I didn’t do anything physical, like I said,” the Doctor said hastily. “You don’t have to worry about that. It’s all in his mind.”</p><p>	“I see,” Yaz said. Her voice was very flat. “I’d… I’d like to go now, Doctor, if that’s okay.” She wiped her hand on her jeans, then wiped it again, wrinkling her nose. </p><p>	“Of course,” said the Doctor. She pulled the Master’s trousers back up, then adjusted them. She gave him a pat on the thigh that was probably supposed to be reassuring. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she told him. </p><p>	The Master couldn’t even shy away from her touch, but he took some deep satisfaction from the way that Yaz did, when the Doctor wrapped an arm around her middle. </p><p>	Of course, the Doctor didn’t notice. Then again, she never did, did she?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alternate title for this chapter: Thasmin castrates rapists.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Thirteen/Missy, Forced Feminization</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has some... internalized sexism? Horny sexism? I'm not entirely sure what the term would be for "kinking on misogyny," but that's pretty much what's in this one. I was honestly kind of uncomfortable writing it, but we do these things to try challenging ourselves, right?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is stupid,” the Doctor grumbled, as Missy pulled the laces of the corset. “I don’t… <i>oof</i>.” She wheezed, as the corset squeezed her a little tighter. </p><p>	“On the contrary,” Missy said. “You’re a woman now. You need to learn to <i>adapt</i>.” </p><p>	“I don’t want to adapt,” the Doctor grumbled. “I do fine when I wear a suit.”</p><p>	“You look like an idiot in a suit,” Missy said. She tugged the corset a little tighter, and the Doctor groaned. It was like being squeezed by a vice, right around her ribs, forcing her small breasts up and forward, as if they were on display. Her hips looked wider like this, her waist narrower, and she <i>hated</i> it.</p><p>	“Yaz said I looked quite fetching,” the Doctor said, and she hated how breathy she sounded. </p><p>	“Your human pet would think you looked amazing in a burlap sack and a pair of crocs,” Missy said dismissively, tying the laces at the bottom of the corset. “There we go…” </p><p>	“I don’t see why I beed to wear this stupid get up,” the Doctor grumbled, glaring at her own reflection in the mirror.</p><p>	“Because we’re sending a message,” Missy said, as if that was an answer. She put a hand on the Doctor shoulder, turning the other woman around, and now at least the Doctor didn’t  need to look herself in the eye as she was being done up with all this… nonsense.</p><p>	The Doctor saw the point of these kinds of things, on other people. Cultural traditions, self affirmation, finding one’s own personal style, she understood all of that. But… she’d had to endure Missy curling her hair and spraying it with hair spray, and the indignity of <i>lacy knickers</i>, and the suspenders, and the stockings that would shred if she sneezed at them. </p><p>	And now Missy wanted to put <i>makeup</i> on her. She’d never been one for makeup. War paint, that was fun, but <i>makeup</i> always seemed faintly… pointless. She was just going to sweat it off, or get splattered with something, or fall in a river. </p><p>	“Why do I have to get done up with all this… frippery?” The Doctor wrinkled her nose.</p><p>	“To send a message,” Missy repeated. She was fiddling with a makeup brush, and then it was passing ticklishly over the Doctor’s face, spreading who knew what.</p><p>	The Doctor wasn’t really paying attention, as Missy did some magical vagaries with the makeup brush and various powders. Then she was being instructed to look up, as Missy very carefully outlined her eyes. <i>I really hope she doesn’t use this as an opportunity to poke me in the eye</i>, she thought, as Missy began to apply eyeshadow, which was almost gritty on her eyelids. Then Missy took out a little wand and began to apply the mascara.</p><p>	“Don’t be silly, darling, if I wanted to stab you in the eye I’d just do it,” Missy said, and the Doctor gave herself credit for not flinching when Missy made a sudden move. But it was just more mascara, and when she blinked her eyelashes were almost <i>crunchy</i>.</p><p>	Ew. </p><p>	She was only going along with this because the whole of the rebellion rested on things at this party going a certain way. She didn’t know why Missy was involving herself with any of this (beyond the chance to commit some minor or not so minor acts of mayhem), but… well. Missy had been here before. She knew the rules. And it was far back enough in her timeline that she hadn’t spent any time in the vault yet, but there was clearly some hope of… something. Maybe redemption.</p><p>	The Doctor would take what she could get. With Yaz off with the rebellion itself, she had to be <i>doubly</i> sure that everything ran as smoothly as possible. </p><p>	“Doctor,” Missy said, and the Doctor was jolted out of her reverie, “pucker up.”</p><p>	The Doctor frowned, and Missy frowned back, tsking. “You keep making that face, it’ll stick like that,” she scolded. </p><p>	“Nothin’ wrong with that,” the Doctor said. </p><p>	Missy rolled her eyes theatrically. “Pucker up,” she repeated, and then she was grabbing the Doctor’s chin, forcing it forward.</p><p>	The Doctor puckered under duress, and she submitted to having the lipstick smeared across her mouth. It wasn’t the same crimson as Missy’s, and when the Doctor was turned around to look at herself in the vanity, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that she <i>didn’t</i> have a mouth like a cut throat.</p><p>	“Look at you,” Missy was almost purring, as her hands ran across the front of the corset to the Doctor’s hips to her backside. “A proper little princess. I’ve turned a sow’s ear into a silk purse!”</p><p>	“I was hardly a sow’s ear,” the Doctor mumbled, embarrassed. She supposed she looked nice enough, with the curled hair and the made up face, but it still didn’t feel like <i>her</i>. She longed for her braces, her boots, her <i>coat</i>. But the coat would be a dead giveaway - it had been seen amongst the rebels. </p><p>	Currently, it was being worn by Yaz, so at least it would be safe. </p><p>	“Let’s get you into your dress,” Missy said, and then she was turning the Doctor around again.</p><p>	It was easier to be more pliable like this - she could argue every step of the way with Missy, or she could trust the other woman's experience with this. Missy had been playing around with gender much longer than the Doctor had. </p><p>	The dress was a sparkly, monstrous cupcake. It had a sequined top, and the skirts were made of tulle and puffed out. They ended right above her knee, and it was all a lovely deep blue. Missy had chosen it, and the Doctor hadn’t had the time to argue about it. </p><p>	The thing was… something. She let Missy zip her into it, and she looked at herself in the mirror. That didn’t look like her, but… well, if it got the peace treaty, she’d dress in a hot dog costume and dance the Macarena on the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral.</p><p>	… actually, she might do that anyway. Sounded like a right laugh.</p><p>	“You look so much prettier when you smile,” Missy said, looking the Doctor over with a critical eye. “Still missing something.” Then she brightened. “Shoes, of course!”</p><p>	“I wasn’t going to go barefoot,” the Doctor protested. “I even chose a pair. Yaz said they were nice.”</p><p>	“She always thinks you look nice,” Missy said dismissively. “Those were rubbish. I threw them out. Found a proper pair for ya, though.” And then she was holding up… high heels. High heels that were entirely too high to run in, but the Doctor was putting them on anyway, and she was teetering. Her ankles shook, just a bit, and her toes were going to start aching any moment now. </p><p>	“No,” Missy said, “still missing something.” She tapped her chin with her index finger, clearly deep in thought. Then she brightened up. “Nail varnish!”</p><p>	“What do I need nail varnish for?” The Doctor leaned against the vanity, the heels clicking just a bit. She’d have to ditch the shoes as soon as she had a chance. Going barefoot would be better than this.</p><p>	“Ties the whole look together, doesn’t it,” Missy said airily. “Hands out, I’ll do them now.” She was pulling a bottle of nail varnish out of one pocket, and the Doctor had to admit, it <i>was</i> very pretty. The varnish was a deep blue, with little gold sparkles laced through it. It reminded her of a circuit board, or maybe deep space.</p><p>	“Wouldn’t it make sense to put the nail varnish on before the dress, so that we could just wait for it to dry?” The Doctor dutifully put her hands on top of the vanity, to let Missy carefully paint the blue and gold over her fingernails.</p><p>	“Shush,” Missy said. She was very careful as she spread the varnish across the Doctor’s nails, and it was cool, even through the keratin. She was already beginning to break out in goosebumps, and the sharp smell of it made her wrinkle her nose. “There we go,” she said, when she’d painted all ten fingers. “Now we need to wait for it to dry.”</p><p>	The Doctor met her eyes in the mirror, and her stomach did a nervous little flip. There was something she didn’t understand in Missy’s face, something that made her insides twist up and quake. Her hearts were beating faster, and when her tongue darted out to wet her lips, it was paler than the lipstick. It was harder to breathe in the corset, and she was so <i>off balance</i> in the high heels. </p><p>	“If you smudge your nail varnish, I’ll cut your fingers off,” Missy said, her tone pleasant. “That stuff is very expensive, and I don’t want you to make a mess of it.”</p><p>	“What,” the Doctor said, her voice flat.</p><p>	“You heard me,” Missy said, and she was grabbing something from the little dressing table by the bed. “That stuff has actual gold in it, and diamond. I don’t want it wasted.”</p><p>	“You could’ve told me that first,” the Doctor said, her tone peevish. </p><p>	“I’m telling you now,” Missy said, carefully adjusting a few of the curls fanning out around the Doctor’s face with the hairbrush. “Being a girl is hard work,” she added, her tone thoughtful.</p><p>	“It doesn’t have to be,” the Doctor said, as she tottered on her heels, leaving heavily on the vanity. She didn’t <i>think</i> that Missy was going to cut her fingers off, but… well.</p><p>	It never hurt to be too careful. </p><p>	Missy rolled her eyes, her expression scornful over the Doctor’s shoulder. She grabbed the Doctor by the hips, and she angled her to stick her backside out. It was harder to fight back without smudging her nails, all squeezed up in boning and tulle. </p><p>	“You swan around, acting as if you can just do whatever you want. Wear whatever you want.” Missy was lifting up the back of the skirt, and then she was… shoving the handle of the hairbrush against the crotch of the Doctor’s panties. </p><p>	The Doctor cried out, but the harsh wood pressed against her labia, ground against her clit. Even in a new body, Missy always knew exactly what to do to get her worked up. </p><p>	“If I see a single smudge on that nail varnish, I’ll walk right out,” Missy said, in a voice as smooth as the wood she was rubbing against the Doctor’s cunt. “I won’t help, I’ll even lead them right to the rebels.”</p><p>	The Doctor watched her own face contort, the intensity of it washing over her like a wave.</p><p>	“Have you done much exploration?” Missy’s tone was sly. She pushed the leg holes of the Doctor’s lacy knickers aside, pressing the bare wood against the delicate skin. It was <i>cold</i> and it slid easily from the wetness that was already seeping out of the Doctor. How was Missy able to manipulate her so easily, every time?</p><p>	“No,” the Doctor said. She watched her own made up face, her mouth falling open, her teeth bared as the handle of the hairbrush was pushed into her cunt, unresisting and as slick as a knife between the ribs. Her hands were flat on the vanity, and her cunt clenched around the solid wood like a fist.</p><p>	“You don’t know how to have any fun,” Missy scolded. She used her whole shoulder to thrust, and the Doctor watched her satisfied face, as she forced the rigid wood in and out of the Doctor, pressing down on some delicate internal… something that was making the Doctor’s knees shake.</p><p>	As if she wasn’t tottering enough, on those ridiculous high heels, in the corset. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to <i>think</i>, when she couldn’t smudge the nail varnish or mess up her makeup. There were tears tracking down her face, leaving dark trails of mascara. She wasn't aware of the crying, just the tears that she couldn’t seem to <i>stop</i>.  Then the hairbrush handle was pushing against something that made fireworks go off behind her eyes, and she gasped. </p><p>	“This is what it means to be a girl,” Missy said, and she said it in an almost absent way. “Or at least, to be the type of girl that <i>you</i> are. You get bent over and have things pushed into you, whether you want to or not.” She swirled the hairbrush, and the Doctor cried out, bowing forward. When she did so, she saw the pale, rounded tops of her own breasts.</p><p>	“Take it out, Missy,” the Doctor murmured. “Please, I can’t…” </p><p>	“That’s not very nice,” Missy scolded. “Might think y’don’t like me, saying something like that.” She swirled it again, and then she was pressing closer, the pad of her finger against the Doctor’s clit. She pressed down on it and circled her finger. </p><p>	<i>If I look down, I’ll be able to see her finger moving in my knickers</i>, the Doctor thought dazedly, except no, she wouldn’t, because the great, frothy mess of her skirts were in the way. And Missy’s finger was moving faster, and she was doing… something with the hairbrush handle, it was all so <i>much</i> all at once, and this body wasn’t very good at multitasking when it came to physical sensations. </p><p>	And then the Doctor came, her cunt pulsing like a star around the intrusion, and it was her first orgasm in this body. She hated that she’d had it taken from her by <i>Missy</i>, that it had happened while her calves ached from the high heels and her nipples chafed against the corset. </p><p>	Then, indignity of indignities, Missy’s damp hand came around to smear the lipstick over one cheek, grabbing the Doctor’s jaw and meeting her eyes in the mirror. The Doctor could smell her own cunt on Missy’s fingers, the dampness leaving a sticky trail on her face, muddling up the makeup. </p><p>	“Practically perfect,” Missy said, and she was smirking. “The only thing missing is the tiara, to complete the prom queen look.” She let go, snapping her fingers. “And I’ve got one secreted around here somewhere. I think I stole it from the Princess of Caxofil’s tomb a few weeks ago.” She paused, and wrenched the hairbrush out of the Doctor’s cunt. </p><p>	And the Doctor stared at her overly made up face, and counted the beating of her hearts. The things she did for peace.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Toys, Thirteen/Dhawan!Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Today's prompt was <i>actually</i> necrophilia, but that's not a thing I write. So instead we get the Master getting his dick buzzed. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn't know why she tied him up. </p><p>"I could get out of this without any trouble, y'know," the Master told the Doctor. </p><p>"But you aren't," she said, her tone serene. She tugged the rope, to make the knot a little tighter, and he hissed. </p><p>	The “suggestion” in his head (some kind of telepathy that he’d inflict on her, once he figured out whatever it was) kept him docile, kept him sitting there as she carefully tied his ankles to the chair. </p><p>	“What are we even doing?” He wriggled in his chair, eyes darting around the room. The old TARDIS was full of old junk, but this room seemed particularly full of the stuff. Piles of teetering hat boxes, old Earth technology in various states of disassembly, old phone books and boxes of miscellaneous <i>stuff</i>.</p><p>	“Well,” said the Doctor, “<i>you’re</i> being a good boy for me.” She smiled at him, and her grin was toothy and slightly unsettling. “I am going to do you a favor.”</p><p>	“A favor.” The Master’s voice was flat. </p><p>	“Well,” said the Doctor, as she went to one of the many boxes and pulled out… an extension cord? </p><p>	“Well,” the Master echoed, and he squirmed. </p><p>	“Well,” the Doctor said, and now they had a proper chorus going, didn’t they? “We’re going to help you work off some of that tension.” </p><p>	The Master frowned. “What are you talking about?” He watched her plug the extension cord into the wall a few feet away from him, then come closer, rummaging around in a <i>different</i> box this time. </p><p>	“You’ve been snappish,” the Doctor said. She took what looked like a pipe wrench out of the box, put it back. Took out an allen wrench. </p><p>	“I wonder why I might be snappish,” the Master said, his voice all rolling sarcasm. “What <i>possible</i> circumstances might be leading to me being in a bad mood! Truly, a mystery for the ages. Maybe you should get your pets involved, show them another one of the great mysteries of the universe. Watch the awe in their faces, the starlight reflected in their eyes!”</p><p>	“See,” the Doctor said, and she shook a finger at him. “This is what I’m talking about. All that is unnecessary.” </p><p>	“This is all unnecessary,” he snapped, taking refuge in at least being able to be cranky at her when he couldn’t do any kind of violence with all the mental safeguards that had been shoved into his head like so much childproofing. </p><p>	“We’ll work off some of that tension,” she said, and now she was holding… was that a vibrator? “You’ve been grinding on me, when you think I’m not paying attention,” she added. “You’re not subtle when you’re horny, you know that, right?” </p><p>	It was a vibrator - one of those ridiculous, plug into the wall ones that humans had invented in the twentieth century. “You used to like that kind of thing,” the Master said, taking refuge in their history to hide any kind of embarrassment that might have been heating up his face.</p><p>	It was just… it was the new body. His new body, and her new body. He usually tried to be above this kind of thing, because he was above all the stupid monkey humans who were all slaves to their glands. But she was just so <i>pretty</i>, and all of him seemed to rage so desperately. He wanted to sink his cock into the slick pinkness of her cunt, shove it into her ass, force it down her throat. </p><p>	He wanted to fuck her until she loved him, wanted to hurt her until she was as broken inside as he was. </p><p>	The Master snorted, and she pulled a face at him. </p><p>	“We’ll get you sorted,” she said cheerfully, and she shoved the vibrator under her arm like it was a football. “Let’s just get these out of the way….” She didn’t even pull his trousers all the way down, just pulled his cock out. It hung over his waistband, and he looked down at it, then up at her. </p><p>	“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. </p><p>	She rolled her eyes. “You’re not even going to be horny when it’s convenient to me, are you?” She put a finger to his temple, frowning, and he wanted to run his tongue over the thick lines in her forehead. </p><p>	The jolt of arousal that hit him like a hammer to the sternum left him breathless, and he shuddered. His eyes squeezed shut, and his chest was heaving. His cock swelled in what seemed like no time flat, and then his erection was pointing up towards his chin. </p><p>	He rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t even try to do it in a less lazy way? Maybe a blowjob? Show me your tits?” He looked her up and down, letting his eyes linger on her breasts, her hips. Then he made a big show of licking his lips.</p><p>	She rolled her eyes. “You’re not even creative in your rudeness,” she told him. She grasped his penis, her fingers wrapped around the shaft, and she’d already worked him up enough with whatever psychic whatnot that pre-come dripped across his fingers. </p><p>	She handled his cock with less affection than she handled her sonic screwdriver, or one of the many fiddly bits that she used to repair her TARDIS. This was just a chore that she had to do, and she wanted to get it done quickly. </p><p>	The vibrator <i>roared</i> when she turned it on, and he jumped. He jumped again, and hissed through his teeth when she pressed the bulbous head of the vibrator against the head of his cock. It was like a physical blow, and he recoiled, jerking against the ropes that had him tied down.</p><p>	“There we go,” she said, in a soothing voice. “Isn’t that nice?” She moved the vibrator up and down his shaft, and he was gasping, his toes curling as he jerked against the ropes. It was too much - he’d had his own hand a few times, but it never scratched that <i>itch</i> that seemed to be gnawing at him like an eagle at his liver (that was one of their stories, the humans). This wasn’t any kind of satisfaction either, it was just being… prodded out of him.</p><p>	He came, and the orgasm wasn’t satisfying. He groaned as his cock erupted in her hand, his cock throbbing in time with his hearts. She kept the toy against his cock, and the nerves were screaming now, his cock twitching in her hand. He tried to pull away, but she just followed him with the toy. </p><p>	He came again. Where did the new orgasm come from? He’d never actually been one to have more than one at a time, even in his last body. He groaned, his head tilted back, and he panted. He was still hard, and he was still throbbing in her hand as she pulled the toy away from him. </p><p>	“You’re more worked up than I thought you were,” she said, and she was frowning. She wiped her hand on his trouser leg, and then she was getting on her knees, fingers still wrapped around his cock. “I’ve got a prostate toy somewhere around here,” she said absently, as she jerked him off in her fist. </p><p>	He groaned. He was too sensitive for this, and the tension building in his guts seemed to be getting worse. It was like a great fork twisting inside of him, and he gasped as her hot, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. </p><p>	The heat was scalding, and the caressing of her tongue felt more like being rubbed with sandpaper. He might have sobbed, if he had it in him, but all of his body seemed to be focusing on the intensity of her mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. Her tongue was doing… something, and maybe her mind was doing something to him as well, because another orgasm was beginning to build at the base of his spine. </p><p>	“No,” he managed to gasp out. “No, please don’t. I can’t take any more.” She pulled off with a pop, still jerking him in her hand. </p><p>“Nonsense,” she said, her tone businesslike. “You’re still hard, see?” Another long stroke, and his cock was somehow still making enough pre-come to drip down the backs of her fingers. </p><p>	“You did this to me,” he gritted out, and he sobbed as another orgasm was yanked out of him. His cock would turn inside out. The throbbing was so intense that it was like a broken bone, a missing limb. Something that was vital and <i>wrong</i>, but he couldn’t seem to stop. </p><p>	The Doctor spat out the little dribbles of come that he’d managed to shoot into her mouth, wrinkling her nose. “We need to feed you better, you taste horrible,” she said absently, then; “nothin’, still?”</p><p>	“I wasn’t even hard when this started out,” he gasped out, as her fist kept pumping along the length of his cock. He squirmed, and groaned as his cock twitched again. It was like every nerve ending it was on fire. “You… started this.”</p><p>	“You’re the one who’s been whining and complaining,” she said, and she let go of his cock, standing up and stepping back.</p><p>	He could have weeped. He was still so over sensitive that even the kiss of cool air on his cock was too much, but… at least it was better than the overstimulating confines of her fist.</p><p>	But she was taking her trousers off. Shrugging out of her coat, rolling up her sleeves, thumbing down her braces, and kicking her trousers and her boxers and her boots. Any other time, this would be ideal. He could see the blond hair covering her cunt, the paleness of her thighs, the delicate pinkness of one of her labia sticking out. </p><p>	“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this,” she grumbled, grabbing the vibrator and turning it on again. He flinched when he heard the roar, but then the tone changed, and she was moaning. When he opened his eyes (had he closed his eyes?) he saw her pressing the head of the toy to her cunt, her hips grinding forward. </p><p>	“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, and it was hard to sound accusatory when his own cock was right there in front of him, the head still swollen, the foreskin drawn back. </p><p>	“Not really, no,” the Doctor said. “I’ve g-g-got other things I need… t-t-to do…” She curled her toes, and then she reached a hand between her legs, as if checking. “Okay, that should do.” </p><p>	“What are you - no.” The Master tried to squirm away, and couldn’t. The heat of her cunt was like a blast furnace against his over-sensitive shaft, and he might have shouted when she grabbed the shaft of him, lining it up. She sank onto his cock, and the pain of the over-stimulation was like a knife to his guts.</p><p>	“There we go,” she said, and she was only a little breathless. She was so close he could have counted her eyelashes. He watched, wide eyed, as she pressed the vibrator she was still holding against her clit (and his stomach). When she switched it on, he <i>howled</i>, the vibrations making their way through her, to him. She was hot and grasping around him, and it was a little bit like sandpaper. </p><p>	“I don’t want this,” he said, his voice a croak.</p><p>	“‘Course you do,” she said absently, and she was bouncing now, her feet on the floor, her hips moving. Every drag of her cunt against his shaft was torture, and the vibrations seemed to make it worse. He was just one raw nerve, continuously being shocked, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it, between the “suggestion” in his brain and the ropes tying him down.</p><p>	He drifted, only really aware of the pain of his overstimulated nerves and the way the rest of him seemed to feel overdrawn as well. He actually <i>squealed</i> when she came around him, a vibrating, sinuous clench like a fist closing over him, and he stared up into her face blankly. <i>Almost any other time, this might be perfect</i> went through his head, and then he sobbed as she climbed off of him.</p><p>	“Nothin’, eh?” She wrinkled her nose. “You stay put,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. He winced, his skin prickling from all that sensation. “I’ll go find that prostate toy. Should cure you.” She gave his over sensitive cock another squeeze, and he hissed through his teeth.</p><p>	He watched her bend over a box, still bottomless, and he shuddered, helpless as a baby and hating every second of it. .</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Whittaker!Master/Yaz, Degradation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yasmin Khan stood on tiptoe to reach a big box of files, and then she sneezed three times in a row, so hard that her eyes teared up. </p><p>	“There’s gonna be a lot more of that,” said a voice behind her, and Yaz looked over her shoulder, the smile already beginning on her face. And then it died. </p><p>	“Oh,” Yaz said. “It’s you.” </p><p>	The voice may have been familiar, and the face that went with it, but… that wasn’t the Doctor. Not as Yaz knew her, at any rate. </p><p>	“Don’t need to sound so disappointed,” the Master said. “I know you’re carrying quite the torch for my Doppleganger, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be glad to see me!” She smiled, and it was a big, toothy grin that looked utterly alien on the familiar features. </p><p>	“I was hoping to see the Doctor,” Yaz said stiffly, as she took the box down. “Is she still busy -”</p><p>	“With the peace talks,” the Master said, making a dismissive hand gesture. “Boring, boring, <i>boring</i>.” She wrinkled her nose, and it was so identical to the Doctor’s own face that it made Yaz’s chest hurt, just a little. “I said I’d go help with the <i>dull</i> busywork, since that’s really just code for letting the grown ups talk and do all the important <i>actual</i> work.”</p><p>	“I’m doing important work too,” Yaz said, and hated the defensive note that was creeping into her voice. “They need the records -”</p><p>	“They don’t, not really,” the Master said. “The Doctor could talk the skin off a banana.” She sat down on the old, rickety table, and it creaked ominously. She swung her feet, absently rotating her ankles, and the dim light from the desk lamp reflected off of the tops of her shoes. The laces were tied in a series of messy knots, and the cuffs of the ridiculous trousers were rolled up high enough that she could see the other woman’s socks. </p><p>	“It’s important to have back up,” Yaz said, and she wasn’t sure why she said it, or why she was clutching the box so hard.</p><p>	“Of course you’d say that,” the Master said. She stood up, and she walked towards Yaz, all swagger and smugness. Even in the dim light, Yaz could make out the madness that was burning on the backs of her eyes. </p><p>	“Excuse me,” Yaz said, because she needed to put the box on the table and then maybe put as much space as possible between herself and the madwoman looking at her with bright, feverish eyes. She needed to get out of this dusty, close room and into some fresh air. She’d even serve drinks for the diplomats or park their goddamn cars, if it would get her out of this dust trap </p><p>	“You’re not excused,” the Master said, tart as a lemon. She took the box out of Yaz’s arms, and she shoved it onto the table, then took a step closer, so that they were almost nose to nose. “D’you know why she keeps you around?”</p><p>	“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yaz said, and she kept her tone calm. Icy. <i>Grey rock, that’s what that one advice columnist says you should do with these types. Make yourself boring.</i> </p><p>	“You’re in love with her,” the Master said, and she was staring straight into Yaz’s eyes, almost nose to nose. <i>Does the Doctor have those same little gold flecks in her eyes, too?</i> </p><p>	Yaz’s heart was beating very fast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then there was a hot, wet mouth pressed against her own. <i>Not as warm as a human’s mouth, although I’ve only kissed three other humans, so -</i></p><p>	“So that’s what you’re missing,” the Master said, and she was smiling. “My, but you have loud thoughts.” She grabbed Yaz’s plait, and she was walking Yaz back towards the shelves, wrapping the hair around and around her fist. </p><p>	Yaz tried to jerk away, and the Master just… dragged her, like she had Yaz on a leash. ‘Let go of me,” she said. “I’ll scream.”</p><p>	“Nobody’ll hear you,” the Master said casually. She grabbed Yaz’s breast with her free hand, squeezing it like a stress ball. “Or, ooh, you know what’d be even better? Maybe they’d blame it on the other side, they’d start the bombing again, and this whole place will be nothing but radioactive dust.” She flicked Yaz’s nipple with her thumb, and Yaz gasped, flinched. </p><p>	“Stop it,” Yaz said, and her voice cracked. The Master looked <i>so much</i> like the Doctor. Her face didn’t wear the same expressions, but there would be a fleeting glimpse, now and again, like her own reflection through a fogged up mirror. </p><p>	“The Doctor is absolutely <i>horrible</i> at telepathy,” the Master said, and she was still talking as if the two of them were just having a conversation over a meal. “Not that you need telepathy, with the cow eyes you keep shooting her.” The Master snorted, and the hand on Yaz’s plait moved to her throat, pinning her to the shelves. </p><p>	Yaz grabbed at the Master’s shoulders, but a particularly hard squeeze made her hands drop down, her eyes roll back in her head. </p><p>	“‘Oh, Doctor,’” the Master said, in a voice that was probably meant to imitate Yaz’s own, “‘let me get that for you, let me explore with you, let me lick your boots, just share some of the wisdom of the universe.’ You make me sick,” she added, as an afterthought, and then her hand was shoved down the front of Yaz’s trousers.</p><p>	“Stop,” Yaz wheezed out. </p><p>	“Not even a polite human,” the Master said dismissively, as the tip of one finger swirled over Yaz’s clit, this side of too much. “God, you’re getting wet, too. You humans are all alike, y’know that?” She twisted her fingers, shoving her hand a little deeper into Yaz’s trousers and forcing eye contact. “You all want to claim you want your independence and to be treated as equals and blah blah blah…” The Master rolled her eyes. “You’re all just slaves to your animal instincts.”</p><p>	“That’s… not true,” Yaz mumbled, and she gasped when the fingers in her trousers were plunged into her cunt, a thumb on her clit, circling it mercilessly. She clenched around the two fingers inside of her, and she sobbed.</p><p>	“You humans are all controlled by your glands,” the Master said, as the fingers inside of her spread open, swirled. Something was pressing against her g-spot, and she gasped, her body trying to curl forward even as she was pinned by her throat. </p><p>	“I…” Yaz started to say, then trailed off at another squeeze. </p><p>	“This sloppy wet cunt doesn’t actually <i>care</i> what goes into it,” the Master said, and she kept fucking into it. It wasn’t fair, that Yaz was getting wetter - was the Master doing some kind of telepathic trick to her? </p><p>	Yaz closed her eyes, and then she jerked them open, as her clit was pinched.</p><p>	“Oh no,” said the Master. “You’re staying <i>present</i> for this. You’re just a stupid human, and I know you’ll end up turning this into a wank fantasy. You’ll lie in bed, feeling guilty as you hump your pillow or ride your fingers or use some pitiful bit of twenty first century technology to force orgasm after orgasm out of your pathetic little body…” She did something with her fingers and something with her mind that made Yaz’s whole body shudder, pleasure dancing up and down her nerves.</p><p>	“I don’t… stop,” Yaz mumbled, and her throat was squeezed again, the pressure behind her eyes getting strong. “I don’t want you to…” She trailed off, sobbed. </p><p>	“You don’t even know what you want,” the Master said dismissively. “You’re saying no, but I can feel your cunt sucking me in. You’re just a stupid, useless human. You’re a sack of meat.” She gave Yaz’s throat an extra hard squeeze. “If I killed you right now, that’d be the end of you. You’d be dead, no more cow eyes staring up at the Doctor, no more over eager idiocy that she has to go save.” The Masters snorted, and she did the thing she’d done before again, with her mind and her fingers. </p><p>	Yaz came around them, and the Master kept talking through the orgasm. “You’re just a liability to her, and even if she doesn’t realize it, I need you to.” The pleasure seemed to intensify when Yaz’s throat was squeezed, and then another one followed on the waves of the first. “You’re just a dumb animal, so I’m using some reinforcement,” the Master said firmly, and then she was adding another finger, and Yaz gave a choked off little gasp. </p><p>	<i>She’s gonna split me in half</i>, Yaz thought, her head spinning. <i>If she doesn’t pop my head off like an action figure.</i></p><p>“I can see that you’re getting ideas above your station. Consider this a reminder. You’re a human. She’s a Time Lord. She’s above you. We both are. You’re like a dog humping her master’s leg, A man masturbating on the Mona Lisa.” Another twist of her fingers, and Yaz came again, harder and more intense than the last two. “Have I made myself clear?” </p><p>	Yaz stared into the eyes that she loved more than anyone else in the world, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t even think too loudly, for fear the Master would overhear. But in the deepest parts of her soul, some inner bestial part of her bared its teeth.</p><p>	The Master thought she was an animal? She’d show this maniac an animal .It would just take some time...</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Thirteen/Dhawan!Master, Recording/Livestreaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” the Master said, and he was smiling at the Doctor downright <i>gleefully</i>, “how about we get this started?” </p><p>	She glared at him, and she wrinkled her nose as he pointed the camera in her face. “Is that really <i>necessary</i>?” </p><p>	“Yes,” he said. “Now. Say your name for the viewers, please.” </p><p>	“I’m the Doctor,” she said flatly.</p><p>	“Why don’t you tell us why you’re here, Doctor?” She could tell that the camera was focusing on her face, from the little whirring noises it made. </p><p>	“I’m here to ensure that there will be <i>peace</i>,” the Doctor said, and that at least was something she could get behind. “I’m here to make sure that -”</p><p>	“You’re here to fuck me so well that I don’t turn this whole festering mudhole into so much radioactive dust,” the Master interrupted her. “And to perform for all our lovely viewers. Say hello to all the lovely viewers, Doctor.” </p><p>	The Doctor kept glaring at the camera. </p><p>	“Hey now,” the Master said, and he put on a scolding tone. “I’d think you didn’t want this.”</p><p>	“We both know why I’m doing this,” the Doctor said, her tone accusing. </p><p>	“Part of the point of pornography is to sell the fantasy that they might get to fuck you,” the Master said, his tone derisive. “You’re not doing much to sell it, are you? Make it seem organic.”</p><p>	“I very much want to make sure that the world is safe,” the Doctor said, and her tone had gotten warmer now. “This is a lovely planet, full of biodiversity, and cloud forests, and the desert has a special sort of six legged camel that -”</p><p>	“The people aren’t tuning in for a six legged camel, Doctor,” the Master interrupted. “They came to see that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.” He paused. “Well, any cock, really. So how about you get on your knees and get to it? Save your precious hexapod camels.”</p><p>	She dropped down, and her coat spread around her like a puddle. She looked up at him, and the camera stared down at him, and his face above it, eyes glinting with malice. </p><p>	“Well,” the Master said, “aren’t you going to get it out?” He indicated the front of his trousers.</p><p>	She wordlessly opened up his trousers, button by button. When she fished into his boxers, he moaned theatrically. His cock was only half hard, but she drew it out like it was a dead mouse and let it hang there.</p><p>	“Well?” He made another theatrical gesture, indicating it. “Get on with it. There’s starving children on this planet that -” Then he gasped, as her hand wrapped around it.</p><p>	“That was a low joke, even for you,” she told him, and she squeezed him. He was swelling in her hand, and she tried not to think of other times she’d done this. Other times when it had been a thing she <i>wanted</i> to do, and not just something to buy the time so the rest of the Fam could find and destroy the detonator. At least she knew she’d set them on the right path, right?</p><p>	“No joke is too low for me,” the Master said, in that oily, sweet voice of his. “Now open wide. If you make me come fast enough, maybe I’ll be in a good enough mood to - <i>fuck</i>.”</p><p>	She took him into her mouth in an almost violent motion, her teeth scraping over his shaft, and her tongue wriggled against the underside of him, prodding at his foreskin. He hissed, the camera still aimed at her face, his other hand going to rest at the top of her head. </p><p>	“Don’t you look pretty like that, sucking my cock?” He tangled his fingers in her hair, and he forced it deeper down her throat. “This is what I was thinking of, when I had you on your knees for me in that gallery.” He laughed, and he rolled his hips forward, pressing her nose against his backside. He was swelling, getting thicker and filling her throat, and it was a <i>lot</i>, a whole lot. She wheezed around it,  and she was drooling down her chin already. </p><p>	This body had a smaller mouth than last one she’d done this in. She’d been fond of it, a while ago, but these days she was just too <i>busy</i>, and besides, there wasn’t anyone with this particular arrangement who had caught her interest. And the Master’s cock was thicker this time around, and it was jabbing at the back of her throat hard enough to make her eyes water. She was doing things with her tongue to get this over with quickly, and it was an old rhythm that she could lose herself in, mindlessly. It was almost like knitting, or kneading bread dough. Only much, <i>much</i> more humiliating. </p><p>	The Master had turned the camera on himself, and he appeared to be monologuing. Only he would monologue while getting a humiliating blowjob. She rolled her eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t hit her when her teeth were so close to his sensitive bits.</p><p>	And even if he did, it’d still be worth it.</p><p>	“See,” he was telling the camera, “see what your great savior is reduced to? Grubbing in the dirt for <i>me</i>, all because she can’t even solve my… mmm.” He trailed off, and took a deep, gasping breath from her scratching throat as he gathered the hair at the crown of her head into his fist and rubbed his cock against her face with the other, smearing sticky wetness all over her face. It smelled like her own saliva, and like the musky salt of his own arousal. </p><p>	She looked up at him impassively, and the camera was focusing on her face, on her reddened eyes and swollen lips, the shiny trail of drool from her bottom lip down her neck, the dark spot on her shirt. </p><p>	“As satisfying as it would be to come all over your face,” he said, his tone reflective, “let’s change it up a bit.” He patted her on the cheek. “Turn around and bend over, dearie. I’d take the trousers down too, unless you want me to rip them.” He smiled, all teeth and mad eyes. “I’d be more than happy to oblige, if that’s what you’d like.”</p><p>	Welp.</p><p>	She’d been expecting this, and yet. Her stomach still did a little awkward twist, and she took her sweet time, carefully folding her coat and putting it to the side, Next came her braces, and she unclipped them, pushed her trousers down. Would it be better to have them down around her thighs or her ankles? Or should she have taken them off. Taking them off left her uncomfortably bare, but leaving them on meant there might be… fluid on them, afterwards. </p><p>	“Now bend over,” he said, as if he was talking to a child, and she did so wordlessly, presenting him her hind end. </p><p>	She jumped when his finger prodded her between the legs, then found her clit and began to rub carefully. She hissed, her eyes sliding shut and her mouth falling open, as he coaxed wetness out of her, still talking to the camera. She wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying, was doing calculations in her head, and then the Master <i>laughed</i>. </p><p>	“You’re <i>right</i>, BigDick69,” he said, and that <i>had</i> to be a screen name. “It’s more fun to see her face. Roll over, Doctor.”</p><p>	“Who’re you talking to?” She rolled over wordlessly, and she kicked her trousers off, leaving her boots on. Her own little act of pettiness - she’d get boto prints all over the legs of his suit. </p><p>	“Oh, just our viewers,” said the Master. “There’s a chat, to go with the stream.” He made a big show of panning up and down her body, pausing at the stripes over her chest. “Our loving audience wants to see your tits.” </p><p>	“You’ve got a chat on?” Her whole face was turning red. </p><p>	“Of course I do,” said the Master, his tone chiding. “You think I’d let a momentous occasion like this go without commentary?” He was on his knees between her spread thighs, and the head of his cock was brushing along the line of her slit. He prodded her clit with it, and she hated the way all her internal muscles spasmed, achingly empty. “Now,” he said, “the adoring public wants to see your tits. Show ‘em.”</p><p>	She didn’t bother taking her shirts off - she shoved them up around her armpits, taking her bra with it, and one big hand came out to squeeze her breast, twist her nippel. She hissed, squirming against him, and the bulbous head of his cock pushed against her entrance.</p><p>	“Mostly everyone is saying you’ve got lovely tits,” said the Master. “Except NMD, who says you’ve got tits like a teenage boy.” The Master jiggled one breast and he shoved himself all the way inside of her in one sharp, painful snap of his hips.</p><p>	The camera darted between her cunt and her face, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting. She lay there, almost like a dead thing, and her whole body shook as he fucked her. She was just wet enough that it didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. She’d masturbated a few times, but there was a difference between gingerly pressing the handle of a hairbrush inside of herself and a living cock being forced inside. It was so <i>hot</i>, and she always forgot that. Living cocks had so much heat to them, flushed with blood, and she focused on that instead of the uncomfortable pleasure that was being drawn out of her. His thumb was on her clit, and the other hand was holding the camera right on her cunt, as the Master’s dick drew in and out. </p><p>	She was going to come on his cock, and she’d never forgive herself if she did. He was rotating over her clit, and he was rolling his hips to press the head of his cock against her g-spot (good to know she had one of them), and she hissed when he seemed to hit his stride, sending her teetering over the edge.</p><p>	“Tell our lovely viewers how much you appreciate them,” the Master said, his tone mocking, and then he did… something with his thumb that made her whole body clench. There was the beginning of a muscle spasm inside of her, and then the whole of her cunt was clenching around his cock, and he was choking back a groan as the pleasure left you limp and panting up towards his face.</p><p>	“Well,” he said, and his voice only shook a little bit, “you liked that, didn’t you?” And then he was… pulling his cock out of her cunt, and what, was he going to come all over her shirt? He <i>would</i>, that was the petty sort of thing he loved doing. </p><p>	It wasn’t until he was spreading the cheeks of her arse that she caught on - she blamed the foggy head from her orgasm. She wasn’t exactly surprised when the blunt head of his cock forced its way into her arse, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled, either. She grunted, her face screwing up at the pressure of it, and he moaned, and pressed his hips forward entirely too fast. She really was lucky that the orgasm she’d had had been particularly… slick, or else there might have been some tearing. </p><p>	She bore down on him, and the hot, thick pressure of him, and he moaned, and whatever monologue he’d been giving died off, as he came inside of her. There was a wash of warmth , and his face went momentarily familiar, the way all peoples’ faces are in the throes of passion or pain. She resisted the urge to reach up and cup it, to feel that little bit of familiarity and reclaim some of their history. He’d well and truly killed that at least ten atrocities ago.</p><p>	“Will you lookit that,” the Master said, as he withdrew, and then there was a whir. She frowned, getting up on her elbows to see what it was that he was filming. And then she sighed, and flopped back. He was filming his semen dribbling out of her arse, because of course he was. He was like any other hackney porno creator, wasn’t he?</p><p>	There was a distant thud, almost percussive, and the Master started. “What was <i>that</i>?” </p><p>	The Doctor, despite the soreness in her backside, smiled. It hadn’t all be for nothing, then. That was a relief.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Thirteen/Missy, Gore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here be gore. There is a body part removed, and an open wound is prodded.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well,” said Missy, and she rubbed her hands together. “Look at you.”</p><p>	“I know what I look like,” the Doctor snapped, and that was probably rude, but being handcuffed to a table was not exactly… ideal. The palm of her one hand was flat on the table. The palm of the other hand was several feet away, in a box. </p><p>	She still wasn’t sure why they’d cut off her hand. At least it had just been the one hand. They’d even bandaged it properly, so that she didn’t bleed out. And it wasn’t even the first time she'd had a hand removed, although the last time this had happened she’d still been buzzin growth regenerating energy. </p><p>	At least this time they’d bandaged it properly. There were pain medications cycling through her, but none of them seemed to be doing much of anything. She didn’t know what they wanted with her hand, although there had been some murmuring about… what, eating it? She’d been dizzy with the pain of it, and the TARDIS translation circuits got <i>weird</i> when she was distracted like his. </p><p>	“What happened to you, sweetheart?” Missy looked at her sidelong, all wide eyes and bright smile. “Did you try to gnaw your way out of your trap?”</p><p>	“If you get me out of this,” the Doctor said through gritted teeth, “I will owe you… a big favor.” This was a horrible idea. You never offered anything to Missy, to the Master. Everything <i>hurt</i>. </p><p>	“You don’t have a plan?” Missy put on a theatrical expression of shock, hands on her face, and it was <i>tiresome</i>. </p><p>	“I have a plan for the next three steps, just not the one immediately in front of me,” the Doctor said, and she took a deep breath. “Please,” she added, and maybe she was hedging her bets, because where in the time line was Missy at this point, anyway? </p><p>	The pain was like a vice, clamped around the stump of her wrist, and it tasted metallic, resting on her tongue like a penny. </p><p>	“Well,” said Missy, and there was a whirr. “You can’t say I never help you, can you?” The handcuffs sprang open, and the Doctor stood up. </p><p>	Or at least, she tried to. She staggered, and then she was leaning heavily against Missy, her stomach heaving unpleasantly. She used to be better at pain than this, she was <i>sure</i> of it. </p><p>	“Oh, deary deary me,” Missy said, and her tone was solicitous. “Bit wobbly on your pins there, are you?” </p><p>	“Let’s just… get the hand and go,” the Doctor mumbled, and then she tried to take another step, only to sag against the wall, her chest heaving. </p><p>	“In a moment,” Missy said absently. “It occurs to me I’ve got myself a bit of an opportunity here, don’t I?” She shoved a hand between the Doctor’s breasts, pinning her to the wall. “Haven’t given this new body of yours a proper once over yet, have I?”</p><p>	The Doctor shuddered, her mouth falling open as one of Missy’s fingers closed around the stump of the Doctor’s wrist. She squeezed it, and the Doctor sobbed. The world went sideways on its axis, and she had to concentrate very hard on not fainting. </p><p>	“That’s not so bad, is it?” Missy’s hand was cupping the Doctor’s cheek, her thumb on the Doctor’s lip. </p><p>	“Missy,” the Doctor gasped out.</p><p>	“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Missy said gaily, and she squeezed the stump again, then grabbed the Doctor’s breast, squeezing it. </p><p>	The Doctor whimpered. “Please,” she whispered. If she wasn’t careful, she might throw up. She needed to not throw up, because the idea of having to sneak out of this place one handed with vomit on her shoes was so revolting that it didn’t bear thinking about. </p><p>	“Mine are bigger,” Missy said, “and I can already hear you thinking <i>oh, Missy, does everything have to be a competition</i>, but listen.” She squeezed the bandage, and then she was… beginning to unwrap it? “That’s how things are with us girls.”</p><p>	The stump of the Doctor’s hand hurt to look at. It just… ended, and it was red, raggedy. She could see the meat and she could see the hint of bone. She’d be able to do… something about it, using regenerating energy, at some point. Hopefully. </p><p>	Maybe. </p><p>	If she tried. </p><p>	She couldn’t think about that just now.</p><p>	Missy’s thumb was on her nipple, tweaking it gently, and she was shuddering. There were little jolts of arousal darting through her system, and that was more sickening than the pain. What was she going to do about that, how was she supposed to handle being aroused while Missy handled the stump of her hand? </p><p>	“Oh, this is a pretty one,” Missy murmured, and she untucked the Doctor’s shirts with one hand while pressing her thumb against the spongy flesh that used to connect the Doctor’s thumb to her wrist. Maybe. She’d never been good at anatomy. </p><p>	The would was beginning to weep blood, and Missy was smearing it with her fingers. Her other hand was trailing up the Doctor’s shirt, fingertips just light enough to bring up more arousal, more goosebumps, and that set off the pain where her hand should have been. </p><p>	“Missy,” the Doctor mumbled, and her tongue was too big for her mouth, her lips numb. </p><p>	“Sh,” Missy crooned, and she pinched the Doctor’s nipple and <i>squeezed</i> the stump of her wrist, sending two different conflicting sensations that made her eyes roll back in her head. The intensity of it all was going to make her throw up. She couldn’t breathe, and her respiratory bypass wasn’t going to kick in, she was just going to be <i>stuck</i> like this, the one moment stretching on for eternity. </p><p>	Missy let go of her breast, and she shoved her hand down the front of the Doctor’s trousers, fingers combing gently through the thin hair covering the Doctor’s vulva. “Aw, isn’t that cute,” she cooed. The index finger of one hand circled over the Doctor’s clit, and the index finger of the other hand passed over the open wound.</p><p>	The Doctor gasped, and her whole body went stiff. It was too many conflicting signals, her nerves screaming at her that it <i>hurt</i>, this hurt, stop getting aroused and deal with the hurt. </p><p>	“You know, this is downright romantic, if you look at it in the right light,” Missy said, and now her finger was down between the Doctor’s labia, collecting wetness. “I’ve got my hands full of you at your most disgusting,” she gave the stump an extra hard squeeze, “and your most… equally disgusting, but like, enjoyably so.” She shoved her finger inside of the Doctor, her thumb on the Doctor’s clit. </p><p>	The Doctor wasn’t guarding her mind, and Missy was leaking into it like black mold, spreading across the walls. She could barely pay attention, as the pain intensified, but <i>oh</i>, Missy was manipulating some part of her that made her cunt clench around nothing. She wanted to push Missy out, but push her out <i>where</i>? Her fingers were probing the wound, and the Doctor’s cunt. It was as if they were probing the Doctor’s mind, and she could only focus on one at at time. </p><p>	The blood was sticky, and soaking into her coat. Why’d they have to get her coat dirty, when it was such a nice coat? And why had they taken her hand, what use would they have of it? She’d have helped them, maybe not in the genocide they were commiting but at least in -</p><p>	“Doctor,” Missy snapped, “stay with me.” Another firm rub of the Doctor’s clit, and then some kind of intense pressure on some internal pleasure button, something that made her whole body clench like a fist. The orgasm was forced out of her, and it was as violent as the removal of her hand had been. She shuddered through it, and the blood had dripped down to her elbow. She was still wet and sensitive, when Missy pinched her clit, then removed her hands. The relief was like a punch, and the Doctor groaned… only to groan again, when Missy’s hands went to her cheeks, holding her face in place.</p><p>	Missy’s tongue was in her mouth, and Missy’s mind was in her mind. When they pulled apart, there was smear of slick on one cheek, and a smear of blood on the other. The last thing she noticed, before she passed out, was how similar they felt.</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Thirteen/Yaz, Victim Blaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz was woken up slowly, and she was too warm. There was something ticklish against the back of her neck, hot air ruffling the little hairs there. There was softness against her shoulder blades - breasts, someone’s belly? </p><p>	It was very dark in the room, and her breath seemed to be coming from a long way away. All of her seemed to be coming from a long way away, and she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, finally registering the tugging at her nipples, </p><p>	Someone was touching her. Someone was touching her breasts, twisting her nipples and tugging them, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. When Yaz squirmed, she was pulled closer, and they made a soothing noise. When had her shirt been pulled up? Her clothing sometimes got a bit disarrayed when she slept, but never like this… </p><p>	“What’s goin’ on?” Yaz’s voice was sleepy, and she hated how quiet she sounded, how <i>fragile</i>. </p><p>	“You were dreamin’,” the Doctor murmured in Yaz’s ear, and then her <i>tongue</i> was in Yaz’s ear, and the mix of revulsion and arousal that shivered down Yaz’s back was enough to make her gasp, a sharp little exhalation. “I could hear it, all the way down in the engine rooms.”</p><p>	“I were?” Yaz blinked, and she whined when the Doctor gave an especially strong pluck.</p><p>	“Definitely,” the Doctor said. She sounded so self assured, as she kneaded Yaz’s tits in both hands, squeezing them possessively. “I were doing maintenance on the TARDIS, easy as you please, and then I caught a bit of your dream.”</p><p>	“I… how could you catch my dream?” The image of dreams like butterflies popped into her head, and she whimpered, trying to wriggle away again. </p><p>	The Doctor pushed her flat onto her back and then she was somehow perched on Yaz’s thighs. She was still wearing her coat, and it rustled amongst Yaz’s bedclothes. “I’m a tiny bit telepathic,” she told Yaz, her tone the very picture of seriousness. “Sometimes when someone is having an especially strong thought or dream, I can pick up on it.”</p><p>	“I weren’t dreaming,” Yaz protested weakly. She lost the plot a little bit, when the Doctor’s mouth descended down onto her nipple, and it felt like her whole body was centered on the wet heat engulfing her. </p><p>	The Doctor did something clever with her tongue, and of course she was good with her tongue, she was always using the damn thing so much with how much she talked. If those things correlated? She thrashed on the bed, and she was trying to push the Doctor off of her, but it was like trying to push down a stone wall. </p><p>	“I know how much you want me, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was placating. “You don't have to be so shy about it, don’t worry. I can tell.” The Doctor gave her nipple a little bite, and that shouldn’t have sent such an intense shock of heat down to her cunt. Her back was arching, her legs spreading in spite of herself. </p><p>	“Doctor,” Yaz murmured, and she tried to make her tongue work, as the Doctor pressed deep, hard kisses down her chest. There was an especially vicious one given to the spot along her ribs, and then teeth were digging into the soft skin of her belly, and she could make her arms work, just enough to shove at the Doctor.</p><p>	“I saw that fantasy of yours, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and oh <i>no</i>, she was hooking her thumbs into the waistband of Yaz’s pajamas. “You were broadcastin’ it pretty loud.” She wrinkled her nose. “No wonder aliens look at us funny sometimes, if you’re always thinkin’ stuff like <i>that</i> so loudly. You really need to work on your mental shielding.” </p><p>	It was hard to think as the Doctor’s thumb swiped over her slit, the pad of it coming to rest on Yaz’s clit. “Doctor, I’ll definitely work on that,” Yaz said, her voice thick. Her hips wriggled, as the Doctor’s thumb rotated over her clit, the same way you’d twiddle a video game analog stick, and she was beginning to <i>pulse</i>.</p><p>	“You should,” the Doctor said. “I’ve never been one for those cruder sorts of metaphors - unlocked cars or havin’ your wallet out, that sorta thing - but… <i>well</i>...” She drew the word out, as she slid her index finger into Yaz’s cunt. “Oh, you’re lovely inside, Yaz. So silky…”</p><p>	“I don’t… please, Doctor, can you…” Yaz couldn’t finish her sentence, as the Doctor kept rubbing her clit, the tips of her fingers curling inside of her. “Doctor,” she said again, and then she squeaked as another finger was pushed into her.</p><p>	“Just about anyone could take advantage of you like this, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and she sounded faintly <i>reproachful</i>. “With your mind open, they might not be as nice as I am!” She was… shifting now, and her mouth was closing over Yaz’s clit. </p><p>	Yaz whimpered, then gasped. She hadn’t been licked like this in longer than she could remember, although right now it was hard to remember <i>anything</i>, so for all she knew she might have gotten head while leaning against the TARDIS wall from the cute bank teller and it had fled her mind. </p><p>	<i>See, Yaz, how easy I’m inside of you?</i> The Doctor’s own thoughts were very loud in Yaz’s mind all of a sudden, and Yaz shuddered violently. It was bad enough, for the Doctor to just insinuate herself into Yaz’s cunt, but now she was in Yaz’s <i>head</i>?</p><p>	“Out, please,” Yaz breathed, as the Doctor kept lapping at her clit. Her toes were curling against the Doctor’s sides, and her hips were beginning to roll. She hated it, so much. She hated that this was the first time the two of them were doing it. Or were they doing it? Was this a thing that they were going to do in the future? She’d had the fantasy, now and then, but… this..? </p><p>	Yaz’s whole mind seemed to be beating against the bars of a cage, and the pleasure was being pulled tighter and tighter at the base of her gut, as her cunt clenched like a fist around the Doctor’s fingers. </p><p>	“I’m not in your mind anymore, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her breath was ticklish on Yaz’s vulva. “Don’t worry, Yaz.”</p><p>	“Not what I -” Yaz started to say, and then her orgasm was wrenched out of her body. Her cunt began to clench and twitch around the Doctor’s fist, and she sobbed as she came and came, the Doctor’s tongue tapping at her clit to push her further along.</p><p>	“See,” the Doctor said, and she pressed a little kiss to Yaz’s vulva, “there we go.” Another kiss. “Next time, you’ll need to be more careful.” She smiled at Yaz. “After all, next person you meet might not be as nice as me!”</p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Thirteen/Dhawan!Master, Multiple Orgasms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"So,” the Master said, his feet very loud as he made his way into the TARDIS control room, “how are you liking the new digs?” </p><p>	The Doctor looked over her shoulder at him, and tried not to tense up. <i>Better he’s in here pissing out than out there pissing in</i> was more or less the shape of the thought, although she’d probably been a bit less <i>earthy</i> in her original assessment. </p><p>	She was tired, and she missed her humans. She closed her eyes, counting to three hundred by sixes, and then she opened them again. “Still the same TARDIS,” she told him, as she pressed another button on the console. “Just did a little bit of redecorating.” They weren’t going anywhere in particular - it was safer to keep him in right now, floating in the vortex. </p><p>	“I wasn’t referring to the TARDIS,” the Master said. He came up behind her, and he was very warm - he was always too warm, like the fires he’d set on their home planet were trying to crawl their way out of his skin. </p><p>	“What were you referring to?” His arms were resting on either side of hers, and his breath was very warm on the back of her neck. She twisted to look over her shoulder at him, and found his eyes alarmingly close to her own. </p><p>	“The body,” he said, and he put his hands on her hips.</p><p>	She covered them with her own, lifted them off. “It’s still my body,” she said, and she wriggled away from him, going to fiddle with another part of the console. </p><p>	“Different set up, though,” he said, and he smiled at her wolfishly. “Have you given it a test drive yet?”</p><p>	“Y’know how it is with a new body,” the Doctor said, and she flipped a switch. “You’re always yourself, just shaped a bit differently.”</p><p>	He followed after her, and he was close enough now that they were hip to hip. “This one has some new settings, though.” He reached a hand out, tucked a piece of blond hair behind one ear.</p><p>	She dodged out of the way, to the other side of the console. “I might have some new settings, but -” She began. </p><p>	“Yes, yes, I know, it’s still you,” the Master said, and his tone was dismissive. “You said as much. That’s not what I meant.”</p><p>	“So what <i>did</i> you mean, exactly?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. </p><p>	“When I was in my old body,” the Master said, “I locked myself in a room for a week and made myself come until I was a little bit afraid I’d regenerate again.”</p><p>	“Oh,” the Doctor said, and she flushed, stared down at the panels. </p><p>	“Since your current setup can go for <i>quite</i> a few rounds,” said the Master. He was moving in too close again. “So how was that experience?”</p><p>	“Haven’t gotten around to doing that yet,” the Doctor said, keeping her tone casual. She made to step away again, and he was caging her against the console with his body.</p><p>	It was so <i>annoying</i> - this was the first time he was bigger than her. He wasn’t even that much taller! But he was broader, and a lot of her own self defense depended on being able to duck and weave and get out of the way, to talk her way out of things.</p><p>	“You’re missing out,” the Master said, and then one of his hands was on her breast. There didn’t seem to be any transition - one moment, his hands on the console, the next one on her hip, the other holding on to her breast.</p><p>	“I can find out in my own time,” she said, keeping her tone stiff. <i>I could disable him with Venusian Aikido, but then it might turn into a whole fight, and while I’m fairly sure I can win, I don’t want this to turn into a war. And he’ll lose interest like a cat if I just don’t respond.</i></p><p>	“You said it yourself, you didn’t get around to it,” the Master said, and his tone was wheedling. He kneaded her breast, thumbing the nipple, and she bit her lip, let her eyes squeeze shut. The heat that was starting to build low in her belly was familiar, but the tingling deep between her thighs was new. </p><p>	“I don’t need you to help me,” she said. “I’m not interested.”</p><p>	“‘Course you are,” the Master said cheerfully. His other hand came around to cup her through her trousers. “You’ve never been able to resist me. I can smell it on you.”</p><p>	She squirmed, getting up on her tiptoes, but that dragged her backside along his erection, and that was… unfortunate. How had she not noticed it before? Probably just absorbed by the big bulk of him pressing into her back. His breath and his stubble and his overly warm hands and his erection and his hearts beating against her shoulderblades. It was all just one big amalgamation of feedback, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. </p><p>	“When you were a man it was probably simple,” he said, and he pinched her nipple and ground the heel of his hand against what must have been her clit. She hissed through her teeth, her eyes squeezing shut, and she willed her hips to stay still. “But you’re not anymore. It’s a lot more sensitive, all told.” </p><p>	There was a sensation like a <i>shove</i>, and then he was in her mind. She could push him out, but she couldn’t do that and keep his hands off of her at the same time. She could only concentrate on so many things at once, And when she was pushing him out of her mind, his hand was down her trousers, in her boxers.</p><p>	“You could have asked,” the Doctor gritted out, and then she shuddered, as his fingertip stroked along the line of her slit, finding her clit and swirling over it. She gave a dry little sob, and her cunt clenched around nothing. </p><p>	“You’d have said no,” the Master said, dismissive. His middle finger was moving down, to press inside of her, and she groaned, breathing out heavily through her nose. </p><p>	“That might be a sign… not to do it,” she said. Her voice was thick. It was a blunt pressure, so different from when she’d been a man and taken it up the arse, but similar in its own way. The sweet, aching pleasure that was starting to curdle inside of her was making her head spin. </p><p>	“Nah,” the Master said, and then he was probing at her mind and probing at her cunt, and she took one intrusion to keep the other one out. When her orgasm hit her, she curled forward, her breath coming out of her in gasps. “See,” he said, and he was still rubbing her, not giving her any kind of reprieve. </p><p>	“I… you showed me,” the Doctor said, as he began to draw another orgasm from the pits of her guts. “You showed me. Are you satisfied?”</p><p>	“I showed you <i>one</i>,” the Master said, and he was curling his fingers, thrusting harder. “If you still had a prick, it’d be oversensitive, aching. I can feel the next one, coiled up in you like a spring. I’m going to pull it out of you, and every time you feel any pleasure in this body, you’re gonna know that I’m the first one who gave it to you.” </p><p>	She came again, and it was drawn out, twisting her insides. She gasped, and he chuckled against the back of her neck. “That was a good one, wasn’t it? Aren’t they so much nicer, this way?” He twisted his fingers inside of her, and he rubbed her clit harder, faster.</p><p>	“Stop,” she whimpered, but the last one seemed to have set off a chain reaction, because she was coming again and again, an orgasm that left her thighs wet and her knees weak. She groaned, deep and guttural, and there was another sharp exhalation against the back of her neck.</p><p>	“No,” he said, and he fumbled her braces open, one after the other. He let go of her cunt, and he pulled her coat off. She was still so weak, trembling, that she couldn’t do anything but let him bend her over, as she grasped at the console. </p><p>	“Master,” she said, and she hated that name, hated that it was being forced out of her mouth like this. Her trousers were down around her knees. </p><p>	“For all that I miss <i>your</i> set up,” he said, and then he was pushing her thighs open, spreading her arse, “there’s nothing that can beat <i>this</i>.” He shoved his cock into her, one deep thrust. He was so blunt, so hot and thick inside of her, and she gasped. </p><p>	“Take it out,” the Doctor gasped. “Take it out, I don’t…” </p><p>	“Your hearts are beating all around me,” he said, and he drew his hips back, pulling almost all the way out, then thrusting back in. “You’re so tight, you’re so wet, I can feel how wet and tight you are, you’re so <i>silky</i>, Doctor, this is <i>definitely</i> one of my favorites.”</p><p>	He was hitting something inside of her, and it was making her gasp, her cunt squeezing harder, her toes curling in her boots. He was rubbing her clit again, and every part of her was torn between the intense arousal and the disgust that was curdling through her. She clenched around his cock, and he groaned, deep in his throat. She was so sensitive, and it seemed to be building deep inside of her, twisting tighter and tighter, until she was coming <i>again</i>, and why was she coming again, how could she keep coming?</p><p>	The Master groaned, and he shoved himself all the way in. His teeth sank into her neck, and he twitched inside of her. “I’m not going to come just yet,” he said, and he gave her clit another rub. “I’m not blessed with what you have.” He gave her another rub. “So. We’ll just have to… draw this out.” </p><p>	And she shuddered, and shoved him out of her mind again. She could live with him in her body, just a little bit longer.</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Dhawan!Master/Yaz, Rape by Deception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why yes, me and Zaffrin did have roughly the same idea. Great minds think alike! Go check out her fic, <i>Red Dust</i>, where she has O shtupping the Doctor for <i>multiple</i> chapters! https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861020 . </p><p>This fic has stealthing in it (claiming to be wearing a condom, then removing it/not wearing it in the first place). Proceed with caution if that might be a trigger.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over the course of his long life, the Master had experienced tedium. Even before he’d… started down his particular route in life, back in the Academy days, he’d realized that nobody could drone like a Time Lord. And now, here he was, stuck on <i>Earth</i> for the next seventy seven years.</p><p>	At least he was done with the fifties. He hated the fifties, so much. </p><p>	And he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in Sheffield. </p><p>	Well, no, he knew he’d gotten on the bus to pursue the lead about the alien that had been slumbering under one of the old steel mills, and then who did he come across but one of the Doctor’s <i>pets</i>, younger than she’d been when he met her, but not by much. </p><p>	He was getting closer by the day. They were in the time period where the Doctor would have met O by now - the Doctor was probably stalking around, all angry eyebrows and sunglasses, ranting to the annoying little thing with the big brown eyes right now. And there was the Doctor’s current pet, out getting groceries with her mum. </p><p>	A plan was beginning to form in his head, and he smiled down into his cup of tea, in the greasy little cafe. A little bit of fun, before the grand finale. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	It was almost insultingly easy to insinuate himself into the pet’s mother’s job. Kill a man here, show up as a temp, establish himself as a good man of all work at the hotel, and turn on the charm. He barely had to use any, and all the humans were eating out of his hand. He remembered birthdays (of course he did, with his superior intellect), he asked after kids (they’d all die, if he had any say in the matter), he even kept track of the names of their cats. He was genial and polite and friendly - like O, but a little more anxious.</p><p>	And he had the exact right moment to strike.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	“Never really good at these things,” the Master said, sidling up to the pet, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a sweater with a reindeer on it, and holding a glass of punch. </p><p>	She looked over at him, a sidelong glance through her eyelashes, and she smiled at him. “No? They’re all your coworkers, aren’t they?” The jumper she was wearing didn’t have anything printed on it, and looked like it was made out of some kind of soft material. Her skirt was sensible, and fell down around her knees, which were covered by thick, grey tights. </p><p>	“They may be,” said the Master, “but I didn’t exactly grow up <i>doing</i> Christmas, so I’m not always sure what the right thing to say is. Like, I know everyone says “happy Christmas,” but there’s also “merry Christmas,” but then again that’s just in the states, right?” He put on a hopeless puppy expression, and he was rewarded with a smile.</p><p>	“I think you may be worryin’ a bit too much,” she told him. “Isn’t that complicated, after all.” She frowned. “Have we met?”</p><p>	“Oh, no,” he said, and he offered her hand. “I work with your mum,” he said. “Oliver.”</p><p>	“Yasmin,” she said. “Yaz to my friends.” She shook his hand, and it was very small in his own. He could have crushed it. </p><p>	“Would it be presumptuous to call you Yaz?” He put on a worried expression. That was Oliver - a worried expression and good intentions. It was aggravating as anything to put on, but it seemed to win people over with the least amount of effort. </p><p>	“Nah,” said Yaz, and she grinned at him again. “Mum talks about you all the time. Says you’re the most competent worker here. Also likes the cookies you bring in.”</p><p>	“Always liked baking,” the Master said. “Nice of your mum to bring you to the party.”</p><p>	“My dad took sick,” Yaz said. “Mum usually brings him, but he’s caught a tummy bug.”</p><p>	The Master had needed to do some downright <i>devious</i> finagling to get the laxative into the stupid human’s breakfast. He’d had to <i>sneak</i>. It had, in its own way, been exhilarating. He hadn’t remembered the last time he’d had to work that hard for something that simple. </p><p>	“I hope he feels better,” he told her. He’d have liked to kill the man, but that would upset the time stream. As satisfying as it would <i>be</i> to do so, he still had a Doctor to usurp.</p><p>	“Me too,” Yaz said. “But I’m a probationary copper, and Mum has been after me to get out a bit more, and I do like a party. Even if we don’t celebrate Christmas.” She took a sip of her punch.</p><p>	“Well,” said the Master, “it is nice, isn’t it? All the lights.” He leaned a little closer to her, and she was letting him, her eyes looking him up and down with a thoughtful expression. </p><p>	She was practically doing all the work for him. </p><p>	“So,” he said, and he put on his most big eyed, friendly human expression, “tell me about being a copper. It sounds <i>fascinating</i>.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>	He let her talk for an hour and a half, making appreciative noises at the right points, asking questions when it was prudent. He’d gotten good enough at this point that he could probably do it in his sleep at this point. </p><p>	She let him put his hand on her arm at one point, her elbow. When the drunken dancing was getting more… vigorous, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, and he offered to take her to see the Christmas tree in the lobby, to get some air. Never mind that she’d seen it when she’d walked into the place. Never mind that his hand was on her lower back now - she wasn’t protesting. She kept looking at him sidelong, and he kept looking back at her. She was pretty, for a human. </p><p>	<i>She’s not even the Doctor’s yet</i>, purred some animal part of him. <i>You got her first.</i>.</p><p>	The only thing that surprised him when Yaz kissed him was that she did it right there, in the deserted lobby. He could smell the pheromones billowing off of her, and in the brighter light of the lobby her eyes were very dark. Her hands were small and warm on his face, and she sighed against his mouth when he gently probed against her lips with his tongue.</p><p>	“I’m sorry,” she said, when they pulled back. “I don’t… this isn’t…” </p><p>	“D’you wanna go someplace more private?” He pulled away from her, and he made a big show of digging through his pockets. “Just to, uh, get away from all the…” He waved a hand over his shoulder, indicating the noise and idiotic human geity coming from the ballroom. </p><p>	She nodded, and she licked her lips. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” she said, as he pulled out a hotel key card.</p><p>	“I’ve got a skeleton key,” he told her. “Penthouse suite is empty, if you want to get a good view of the city?”</p><p>	She bit her lip, and he considered pressing her will against his, or maybe hypnotizing her. He’d gotten a little rusty at it - hadn’t had the need to use it in a long time, really. But then she met his eye, and she nodded. She took his hand in hers, and she let him lead her to the elevator.</p><p>	She kissed him in the elevator too, pressed him against the wall of the elevator. He let her think she was the one setting the tone, as his hands rested on her waist, and he pressed little kisses along her jaw, his stubble ticklish against her neck. </p><p>	When they broke apart, her chest was heaving, and the scent of aroused human filled the elevator. His cock was swelling in his trousers, and maybe if he wasn’t so depraved he wouldn’t be so turned on by fucking a lower life form, but he’d always been perverse, hadn’t he? He unlocked the door, flipped the lights, and then it was the two of them in the big suite. There really were floor to ceiling windows on one end, and he watched her walk towards it.</p><p>	“Lookit all that snow,” Yaz said, and her voice was quiet. “So pretty.’</p><p>	“Very pretty,” he said, and he let his eyes sweep up and down her frame when she turned to see him.</p><p>	Her face did something soft, and then she was walking towards him, the heels of her sensible boots clicking on the floor. She pressed herself against him and she kissed him, her hands in his hair now, her tongue hot and needy against his own. </p><p>	He kissed her back, letting his palms run across the sumptuous fabric of her jumper, then up over the bony planes of her shoulderblades. She pressed closer to him, and she moaned into his mouth when he grabbed her arse. It was short work to navigate her to the bed, and even shorter work to bend her over it.</p><p>	She pulled the jumper up and off, and she was utterly <i>shameless</i> in the way that she pushed her shirt after it, leaving her in her bra. Then she caught his expression, and she paused. “Sorry,” she said. “Am I -”</p><p>	“No,” he said quickly. “No, not at all.” He smiled at her, and putting the dopy puppy look into the backs of his eyes, and he traced one hand over the soft skin of her belly, watching the goosebumps ripple up after his touch like a stone that had been thrown into a pond. “I’m… comfortable with anything you’re comfortable with.”</p><p>	“D’you have protection?” She sat up on her elbows, and she looked embarrassed to say it. What a responsible little human. </p><p>	“Yeah,” he said, and he pulled his own stupid jumper off, took his shirt with it. He got on top of her, hands going under her to undo the clasp of her bra, and he lost himself for a little bit. He might not have been especially fond of humans, but they were the right shape, more or less, and it was nice to have someone warm and wriggling against him. She moaned at the feel of his chest hair against her nipples, and she <i>squealed</i> when he sucked on them, swirling his tongue over the tip, then digging his teeth in just enough to dent the skin.</p><p>	When he pulled back from her and pushed his trousers down, she was eyeing his cock with a slightly apprehensive expression. “Do you want me to give you head?” She licked her lips, and she looked faintly nervous. “I’d just want you to put a condom on first.”</p><p>	“Nah,” he said. “I, uh…” He put on a bashful expression. “I don’t have the best stamina. Probably wouldn't last long, and I’d wanna make you feel good.” He made himself look even more sheepish. “Might not, uh... last super long regardless,’ he added. “But I’m good with my mouth.” He made a big show of licking his lips. </p><p>	She smiled at him, and she giggled. “Are ya, then?” Her chest was rising and falling, her nipples hard points on her chest, </p><p>	“I like to think so, yeah,” he said. Then he was fumbling in his wallet, and turning his back to her, as if he was bashful to be seen fiddling with his cock. He heard rustling, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her kicking her tights off, wriggling out of her skirt and knickers. She was completely naked on that big hotel bed, and it was all for <i>him</i>. </p><p>	On impulse, the Master dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. He grabbed her by the thighs, pulling her to the foot of the bed, and he pressed wet, desperate kisses along her inner thighs. He propped her knees onto his shoulders and he licked her hungrily, from her entrance up to her clit. She was gasping, her thighs squeezing him tighter and her heels digging into his back as he licked and licked, coaxing an orgasm out of her. He could taste her mortality, and the way her cells were dying, the salt and musk and humanity of her clinging to his beard and climbing up the inside of his nose. It was disgusting, the way eating a good meal or landing a good punch was disgusting.</p><p>	He was supposed to be above all these things, as a Time Lord. Time Lords were the highest of the high. Although the Doctor was higher than that, even, and the rage that pulsed through him made his hearts go that much faster, his head throb at the temples. </p><p>	She froze when he licked lower, spreading the cheeks of her arse, and then she gently pushed him away. “I want to feel you,” she said, and her voice only shook a little bit. </p><p>	<i>Good redirection, human</i>, he thought, but he kisses her inner thigh. “Of course,” he said, and he was grateful for the low light, as his bare cock dragged across her inner thigh, dripping pre-come. She couldn’t tell - maybe she thought it was lube? She was hot and slick against him, and she kissed him with the passion of the young and the intensely horny. </p><p>	He grunted against her lips when he pushed himself into her in one long, deep thrust. She was slick around him, and she squeezed him like a fist in a velvet glove. He was angling his hips so that his pubic bone was grinding against her clit, and she gave a little squeak every time he pressed into her, then drew his hips back. She was so <i>tight</i> - had she even done this before? </p><p>	She gasped against him, and he played the part of attentive lover as he fucked her, slow, deep thrusts that made her tits shake against his chest, her nails dig into his back. When she came again, she milked him like a machine, and he groaned, and he imagined the look of shock and hurt on her face - on the Doctor’s face - when they found out. </p><p>	She lay there, panting, her hair sticking to her face with sweat, and then she paused. “Wait,” she said, and she was frowning.</p><p>	He pulled out of her in a gush, and she sat up on one elbow, reaching between her legs. “I though you said -”</p><p>	“I lied,” he interrupted, and that was his real voice this time. He pressed his fingers (wet with her slick) to her temples, and he shoved his mind into hers. It had been easier to press into her cunt, but not by much. </p><p>	He’d have to remove the memory, more the pity, but. </p><p>	Well.</p><p>	At least he could live with the knowledge that she’d be found in the hotel bed with spunk drying on her inner thighs. One had to take the small joys in life, really.</p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Missy/Dhawan!Master, Bestiality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The original prompt of the day was "forced het/gay", which is not a thing I'm comfortable writing. So! Have some dogfucking.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master came back to himself - more or less - chained to the floor of his TARDIS. He knew it was his TARDIS, the same way he knew the insides of his own clothes or the beating of his own hearts, and there was some comfort in that. </p><p>	His wrists were manackled down, and his legs were forced apart by a different chain. His lower half was being supported by some sort of… bench, forcing his backside in the air, and his knees were digging into the floor. With his legs spread wide like this, all of his… everything was on display, and if his head was slightly less foggy he might have been uncomfortable. But something was singing on the very edges of his senses, something wasn’t <i>right</i>. </p><p>	“Finally joining us in the land of the living, I see,” said a familiar voice, and he blinked, looked over. There was… him. Only not him as he was now, but when he was still a woman. She was all done up like an Edwardian dominatrix, naturally - how had he <i>ever</i> thought that was a good look?</p><p>	“Never really left it, as far as I know,” he said, and his voice came out as a rasp. </p><p>	She walked up, and the tops of her very shiny shoes reflected his own face back at him, distorted. She was a distortion of him, and he was a distortion of her. It was a travesty and an abomination for the two of them to be in proximity, let alone in the same TARDIS, and the air hummed with the wrongness of it. </p><p>	<i>Why don’t I remember this?</i> He stared up at her face, and she looked into his. If this had happened, the first real look in the mirror at his own face wouldn’t have been such a shock, would it?</p><p>	“I must say, I wish I hadn’t downgraded,” she said, circling around him, and from this position, he couldn’t turn to watch her. He didn’t like having her behind him, not with his arse spread open and all his sensitive organs dangling <i>right there</i>.” </p><p>	“You’re the one who chose it. As it were,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “So how did you find me?”</p><p>	“Oh, I have my ways,” she said lightly. “And don’t worry about the ensuing paradox either,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “I’ve got a wonderful little replacement memory for all of this, after I’ve wiped my mind good and proper.” Abruptly, her warm fingers were stroking along the crack of his ass, and her jerked away. His skin hummed with the <i>wrongness</i> of it, even as he remembered his other two incarnations dancing together, and doing more than dancing. </p><p>	“This seems like a roundabout sort of masturbation,” he said, and then he groaned, as she pushed the slick substance inside of him. Her nails were trimmed, thankfully, but it was still… unpleasant. He hadn’t done anything of that sort with this body, not yet. </p><p>	“As if I’d do that,” she said, dismissive. “The one before me was prettier. I liked him.” She smeared some of it along his sac, then gave his cock a long, luxurious stroke. It was already swelling from the attention, because of course it was. The damn thing never cooperated. </p><p>	“I’m pretty too,” he said, and he experimentally tugged on the chains keeping him down. “I’m sure I could demonstrate it better to you in a less… compromising position.” He let the word linger in the air, like perfume. </p><p>	“I like this one,” said Missy, and she nudged him in the thigh with one boot. “I know what you mean,” she said, and there was something… hard to understand in her voice. Something that reminded him of his time in the vault, stewing in his own mind. </p><p>	It was a voice that whispered in his ear sometimes, in the quiet moments, the still ones. He wanted to rip it out of himself by the roots, and he kept himself busier and louder, ever whirling like a dervish to drown it out. </p><p>	“I mean plenty of things,” he said, and then she was walking back into his view.</p><p>	“Hold that thought,” said Missy, and then she was disappearing out the door. There was the sound of jingling, and padding on metal. He frowned, his head still foggy with whatever she’d knocked him out with.</p><p>	The air of the TARDIS was charged uncomfortably - it couldn’t have been doing the old thing to have the two of them in it. And at least his TARDIS had… if not forgiven him, at least given up on fighting him, which was the best he could get. </p><p>	Maybe that was why everything was so… strange. There was a dreamlike air to the whole place, and he wasn’t sure if this was even happening. Maybe he was still lying in the Outback, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the Doctor to text him back. </p><p>	(Some things never changed.)</p><p>	Missy came in with a big grey dog on a lead. The dog’s floppy ears had perked forward, and its tail had begun to wag as soon as it spotted the Master. Something about it was giving the Master a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>	“This is Max,” said Missy, and she rubbed the dog around the ears. “Isn’t he a good boy?”</p><p>	“Let me out and I can see,” the Master said. </p><p>	She smiled at him, all teeth and lipstick, and his stomach sank even further. “Let’s let Max have a little fun, shall we?” She unclipped the lead, and the dog immediately disappeared from view. </p><p>	The Master jumped at the feeling of the cold nose against the crack of his arse, and he gave a strangled groan when the dog’s long, flexible tongue flitted out to pass over his hole, across the back of his balls. The dog was… lapping at him, and he wanted to be sick.</p><p>	“This seems depraved, even for you,” he said, and his voice was thick, as Max kept licking him, tongue jamming inside of him every few strokes. It was so <i>sloppy</i>, and he was already dripping with dog drool, dribbling down his balls to his shaft, and then the tongue was even lapping at his cock, wrapping around it. “If… if you were going to f-f-force me to commit bestiality, you could… you could at least… <i>at least<i>...” He lost the train of thought, as the dog’s tongue went deeper, and his cock twitched against his belly. </i></i></p><p>
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    <i>	“At least put you with a more sentient animal like a human?” Missy supplied, and she sounded like she was going to laugh. “Nonsense! Where’s the fun in that?” He couldn’t see her face, with his eyes squeezed shut, but he could imagine the grin. He could remember that same grin, stretching across his own features, bearing his teeth and terrifying whoever it was that he was aiming it at. </i>
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    <i>	The Master didn’t have an answer to that, but he didn’t have <i>any</i> answers right now, because the dog seemed to have gotten bored of its licking, and was… mounting him. The dog’s chest was on his back, and the front paws were grasping around his ribs, the claws scratching him. There was something hot and blunt nudging along his arse, and he groaned as the very tip of it pressed against his hole. </i>
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    <i>	“Besides,” Missy said, and her tone was scornful now, “we’re not the <i>Doctor</i>. We’re better than that.” </i>
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    <i>	The dog’s cock caught on his hole, and Max pressed it in deeper, forcing the ridge into the Master’s tight channel. </i>
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    <i>	“I… might…” The Master couldn’t think of a witty comeback. It was a little bit like being stabbed with a blunt needle, with the bonus humiliation of the panting, drooling mass against his neck, the horrible animal heat forcing him into the bench, the floor. </i>
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    <i>	“What’s the new human pet like, anyway? I assume there’s a new one.” Missy was walking around, and he kept track of her, over the dogs whimpering and panting, as it began to thrust its hips in rapid, desperate shudders. It was so <i>big</i>, and it seemed to fill the Master’s whole self. He was clenching around it in spite of himself, and his own cock seemed to be swaying in time with each thrust, hitting him in the belly. </i>
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    <i>	“Why are you… doing…” He gasped out. Max whined, and the thrusting seemed to be speeding up. His cock was drooling pre, right down the shaft, to puddle under him. He was so full, and he would have cried, if he had it left in him. Every jerk of the dog’s hips seemed to be feeding into the shame and the rage, and the two emotions were just bending together, as if they were braided like a rope. </i>
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    <i>	Max shoved himself in all the way in, and then there was something thick prodding at the rim of his hole. </i>
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    <i>	“If you’re you, that means I don’t stay me,” said Missy. “If you’re… like this, it means that all this hard work I’m doing is for <i>nothing</i>.” Her voice had turned into a sharp, vicious snarl, and then the thickness was shoved into the Master’s arse, and the Master couldn’t manage any noise above a sob. </i>
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    <i>	Great, thick gobbets of come shot into him, and the thick knot seemed to pulse inside of him. He was still hard, somehow, and the dog was trying to pull away, but they were… stuck. </i>
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    <i>	“Whatever I did to become you would be a crime greater than even <i>I</i> can comprehend,” Missy intoned, as if she was some horrifying god. “You’re a mad dog, and you need to be put down, but I can’t find it in me.”</i>
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    <i>	“So you…” Another yank of the knot at his arse, as the dog tried to pull away. “So you had a dog <i>bugger</i> me?” His cock throbbed harder, pressed against his belly, and the arousal that was throbbing through him was almost as bad as the pain splitting him open. </i>
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    <i>	He could hear the rustle of her clothes as he shrugged, over the dog’s whimpering. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said, and... well, try as he might, he couldn’t think of a better argument.</i>
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<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Thirteen/Yaz, Rape Fantasy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is a bit heavy on the navel gazing. Apologies, folks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, and she covered her face with both hands. She was tired - <i>so</i> tired - but too keyed up to sleep. This happened sometimes, after a particularly exciting adventure. Her whole body throbbed with excitement and anxiety, and all she wanted to do was… what?</p><p>	<i>I need to sleep</i>, she thought, still staring at the ceiling. <i>Just forty winks. Full eight hours.</i> </p><p>	She’d tried listening to podcasts, to a book on tape. She’d played the quiet ocean noises that usually knocked her out back home. This time, it made her think about the giant crayfish people they’d been rescuing, and that hadn’t… helped. </p><p>	She’d done jumping jacks and squats and pushups, but all that left her was sore. At this point she was probably going to need to look into chemical assistance. </p><p>	Or.</p><p>	Well.</p><p>	Yaz’s hand stole its way under her bedclothes, into her pajamas. She always felt odd masturbating on the TARDIS - the Doctor always talked about the ship as if it was alive, and maybe it was starting to rub off on Yaz. But under the blankets, in her own clothes, it’d be fine, right?</p><p>Yaz closed her eyes, and let her imagination roam.</p><p>	There was her favorite old fantasy - kissing the Doctor in the control room, the Doctor getting down on her knees, opening the fastenings to Yaz’s trousers and licking until Yaz’s eyes rolled back in her head. There was a little tingle, but nothing doing otherwise. </p><p>	Maybe something a little riskier? She imagined bending the Doctor over her desk at work, pressing the Doctor’s legs open and cupping her between the legs, forcing the seam of those ridiculous trousers against the Doctor’s clit, watching the fabric grow dark with the other woman’s arousal.</p><p>	<i>That</i> was more like it.</p><p>	Yaz moaned, a quiet little bitten off sound, and she shifted, letting the fantasy go a little deeper. Imagined tangling her fingers in the Doctor’s hair, pushing the Doctor’s face into the desk, imagined shoving those trousers down. </p><p>	<i>”No, Yaz,”</i> the imaginary Doctor cried, as Yaz’s fingers slid into her, and that sent a desperate throb of arousal through Yaz’s body, clenching tightly around nothing. <i>Wish I had my dildo</i>, she thought deliriously, then; <i>wait, what?</i> </p><p>	She rearranged the fantasy, as if she was rearranging a diorama. Kissing the Doctor in some dark closet in her old primary school, where she’d kissed Izzy Flint back before the other girl had betrayed her. The both of them in the uniform for Yaz’s school, her hands sliding up the Doctor’s shirt, and the Doctor whimpering and gasping against her lips. </p><p>	“<i>Slow down, Yaz,”</i> whispered fantasy Doctor, and in her own mind, Yaz shoved her hand up the Doctor’s skirt, to squeeze her cunt.</p><p>	“<i>I’ll do what I want,”</i> fantasy Yaz said, and that made Yaz stifle a groan into her own palm, squeezing her eyes shut. She planted her feet, rocking her hips, and she rubbed her clit a little harder, her teeth digging into her lower lip. </p><p>	“<i>No</i>,” fantasy Doctor said, and she was struggling, and in the fantasy Yaz was struck with the urge to put a hand around the other womans’ neck and <i>squeeze</i>. </p><p>	“Wait,” Yaz said out loud, and she opened her eyes. <i>What’s with all the “no”s?</i> She’d never really thought about that sort of thing before. She’d never done… anything like that. Wouldn’t do anything like that. </p><p>	So why was her cunt throbbing like a dying star, while her heart beat desperately in her chest and her sweat made her hair stick to her face? </p><p>	She flopped her head back onto her pillow, and she wriggled her hips, still grinding, then rolled onto her stomach, the blanket forming a tent around her. She spread her legs, now humping into the palm of her hand, and she groaned into the pillow. She let her mind flick over ideas, like it was taking pictures. </p><p>Kissing the Doctor under a waterfall, her fingers buried in the other woman’s cunt and her hand tangled in blond hair. </p><p>	The two of them in her bedroom in her parent’s house, and she was pressing the Doctor between her legs. </p><p>	The Doctor’s mouth on her shoulder, fucking her with a strap. </p><p>	The Doctor in this bed with her, right now, and now <i>she</i> was wearing the strap, and she thrust her hips forward, gasping into the pillow. “Take it,” she whispered into the by now damp fabric of her pillow. “Take it, take it, <i>take</i> it!”</p><p>	She wanted the Doctor crying, she wanted… she wanted the Doctor to say no.</p><p>	… she shouldn’t have been thinking these things. It wasn’t right, to want to… hurt someone like that. </p><p>	Yaz sighed, flopped back down on the bed. “I’m not getting into an argument with my own brain,” she said out loud, as if that wasn’t a thing that she did on the daily. </p><p>	Why did she keep returning to that “no,” to the fear in the Doctor’s eyes? Why did she want to just <i>take</i>?</p><p>	Unbidden, the image of the Doctor tied up slid into her mind. She remembered the most recent time they were all bound, when they had been menaced by the cotton candy jellyfish… things. The Doctor had been tied with her arms behind her back, and her breasts had been thrust out, her back arched. </p><p>	<i>I want to grab them</i>, Yaz thought feverishly. <i>I want to come up behind her, maybe when we’re hiding, and I want to grab her tits, but I don’t want to… actually do it, but in my mind I want to because -</i></p><p>	Some part of her just gave in. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the fact that she was almost <i>used</i> to chasing her own mind in circles, but some part of her gave in. </p><p>	So. Make it a fantasy. Make it all… fake. If it was like a porno, but in her own head, it didn’t count, right? And it wasn’t as if she’d ever touch the Doctor without permission. As if she’d ever be able to do so in the first place, with the Doctor’s strength, her knowledge…</p><p>	And then the scene flipped entirely. The scene flipped, and Yaz was the one bent over, the Doctor hissing cruelly in her ear. She’d never been particularly good at giving up control, but then again… maybe that was part of the appeal. Maybe?</p><p>	Maybe she wanted it all taken away from her. </p><p>	She gasped, and her hips began to rock again, full on humping the bed now as she ground into her hand.</p><p>	“<i>You’re just a stupid human</i>,” the Doctor snarled in her head, and she was pinned to a table, or maybe a desk. She rode the fantasy like a wave, letting it take her wherever her brain wanted it to go, and it wanted her to just <i>take it</i>, as she was done from behind by the Doctor’s elegant fingers. </p><p>	“<i>Weak, stupid, useless human</i>,” said the Doctor in her head, and she was slapping Yaz’s backside too, she was pinching Yaz’s nipples, and some of these shouldn’t have been possible, but it was all blending together, it was all just the Doctor, <i>taking</i>, the Doctor raping her, the Doctor wanting her so much that she didn’t care what Yaz wanted. The Doctor, who was strong and beautiful and clever and kind and wonderful, who had a dark side, and what if Yaz was special enough to feel that dark side herself.</p><p>	What if Yaz explored her own dark side?</p><p>	Yaz rolled back onto her back, and her legs spread wider, as she rubbed her clit faster. She’d kicked the blankets off now, and she could faintly make out the lump of her own hand moving in her trousers. Her other hand moved to her breast, and she squeezed it, her whole face screwed shut. </p><p>	<i>What if I took her over the TARDIS console, what if she made me eat her out in front of a whole bunch of aliens, what if what if what if what if what</i></p><p>	It all whited out as she came, the tension bursting out of her like an electric shock. The initial shudder of it left her breathless, and then she was sobbing her way through her climax, her chest heaving and her whole face screwed shut. The pleasure seemed to wash through her like a rainstorm, and then she was flat on the bed, panting and clammy with sweat. </p><p>	<i>I should shower,</i> Yaz thought drowsily, but her eyes were already drifting shut. She fell asleep with her feet tucked under her rucked down covers, and slept like the dead. </p><p>	She might flush when she saw the Doctor in the morning, but… that was a problem for the future.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Plot twist: the TARDIS knows the Doctor wants to be ravished like a romance novel protagonist and got tired of subtly hinting. </p><p>(But also Yaz is totally into CNC).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Yaz/Thirteen/Dhawan!Master, Forced to Commit Rape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yaz looked down at the Doctor, and she wrung her hands. </p><p>	On anyone else, the image before her would have been serene. Peaceful, even. The Doctor, sprawled out on a bed, her eyes shut, her hands folded over her chest. Her stomach was rising and falling, and her eyes were moving gently beneath her lids. </p><p>	She was <i>still</i>. The Doctor was <i>never</i> still, and it was enough to make Yaz’s skin crawl.</p><p>	“She looks so sweet, doesn’t she?” The voice speaking made her break out in goosebumps, and she looked over her shoulder, to see… him. </p><p>	“Get away from her!” Yaz put herself between the Doctor and the Master, and she wished she had… <i>any</i> kind of weapon, or even just something to hold on to. </p><p>	At least they were almost the same size. This would be downright <i>embarrassing</i> if she had to crane her neck to glare at him.</p><p>	“I haven’t touched her,” the Master said, his voice as tart as a lemon. </p><p>	“Why’s she asleep?” Yaz put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. The other woman didn’t move, didn’t make any sort of noise, and Yaz shook her a little harder. </p><p>	“She’s been hit with Lu-Dor poison number thirty two,” said the Master. “I think it was a dart.” He indicated the little bit of feather that was lying on the floor beside the bed. </p><p>	“Who’d do that?” Yaz went to put her hands in her pockets, then remembered she was wearing a dress that didn’t have any. The inhabitants of this planet were oddly conservative, and the Doctor had only really gotten away with wearing her usual get up because she was the Doctor, and she <i>always</i> got away with whatever she was wearing. </p><p>	“We Time Lords <i>do</i> have a lot of enemies,” the Master said. “Also known as a Sleeping Beauty poison. She’ll waste away to nothing and sleep for thousands of years, if we don’t do anything.”</p><p>“What d’you mean, ‘we’,” Yaz said, then; “wait, why are you here in the first place?”</p><p>“I’ve got my own reasons for doing things,” the Master said, and the look he shot her made her skin crawl.</p><p>	<i>From the way the Doctor’s talked about you, the main reason you do anything is to get her attention</i>, Yaz didn’t say. “I see.”</p><p>	“The problem being that this poison is absolutely <i>dreadful</i> for us Time Lords,” the Master said, and he was grasping the lapels of his coat, looking very pleased with himself. “So I can’t even give her the traditional cure.” </p><p>	Yaz wanted to kick him. “Traditional cure?”</p><p>	“Well,” he said, “it <i>is</i> known as Sleeping Beauty poison. As I told you earlier.” He took a step towards her, and now he was grinning wider. It was like a fin moving through the water. “It really is a good thing she keeps you around. Humans are immune to the poison. You’ve even got an antibody that fights it.”</p><p>	“Sleeping Beauty - you can’t mean…” Yaz trailed off, her gaze drifting over the Doctor’s sleeping face. “I couldn’t do that.”</p><p>	“It’s just a kiss,” the Master said, and he was stepping closer to her now, crowding her. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all, really.” He paused, his expression thoughtful. “Of course,” he added, “it would have to be a <i>proper</i> kiss, not just a little peck like a princess in a Disney movie.” </p><p>	<i>Why would he know about Disney movies?</i> “That’s… that’s assault,” Yaz said, her voice going a little too high pitched for her own liking. She’d fantasized about kissing the Doctor, sure, but not… like this. </p><p>	“When a medic performs CPR, they’ll break someone’s ribs,” the Master said. “That’d be assault under different circumstances. Same idea.”</p><p>	“I can’t just… kiss her,” Yaz said, and her voice cracked. “Can’t you just… give her some of my blood?”</p><p>	“It needs to be transmitted via saliva,” the Master said. “Although if you’re offering any of your blood -”</p><p>	“Fine,” Yaz said, before he could continue down that road. “Fine, fine, I’ll… I’ll do it.”</p><p>	She hated turning her back to him, but she had to, to lean over the Doctor. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to her friend, and she bent down and pressed their mouths together. The Doctor’s breath puffed across her upper lip, and then her own tongue was pressing against the Doctor’s limp one, and it was… cooler than she expected. She’d put a lot of thought into kissing the Doctor, and she was so disappointed it made her stomach clench. </p><p>	Yaz straightened up, looked down at the Doctor’s face. She was still sleeping, peaceful as anything.</p><p>	“Might need to try a different mucus membrane,” the Master said, his tone thoughtful. He was watching her as if she was a particularly entertaining animal putting on a show for him. </p><p>	“I’m not licking up her nose,” Yaz said. “Unless… I have to.” </p><p>	“I wasn’t thinking about her <i>nose</i>,” the Master said, and his eyes traveled down the Doctor’s body, to rest at her crotch.</p><p>	Yaz flushed, “That’s rape,” she said, and her voice was very quiet. Her heart was beating in her ears, and her palms were sweaty.</p><p>	“For a good cause,” the Master reminded her. “And anyway,” he added, “an orgasm would do her good. All those hormones, get the antibodies moving.” </p><p>	Yaz shuddered, and she bit her lip. The Doctor hadn’t stirred, and the eerie stillness was beginning to get to her, as did the way the Master was looking at her. </p><p>	“She’ll never know,” the Master added, almost generous. As if that would convince her. </p><p>	Yaz looked down at the Doctor’s face, and then into the Master’s eyes. “I… are you <i>sure</i> this is the only way?”</p><p>	“Do you think I want to watch my best enemy getting licked out by a <i>human</i>?” He had turned off whatever good humor had been putting on, and there was a flat, cold fury to his voice. “Imagine your sister getting licked by a dog, only more horrible than that, because I’ve known her longer than your civilization has existed.”</p><p>	Yaz glared at him. “I’m not your same species,” she snapped, and she found herself looking straight into his eyes, “but that doesn’t make this bestiality. You’re not better than me just because you’re older, or more advanced, or… whatever.” She took a deep breath, faintly shocked at herself for what she’d just said, and she licked her lips.</p><p>	The Master’s face broke into a grin, like a mirror cracking. “You’ve got some spirit in you,” he said, and he patted her on the cheek. “I can almost see why she keeps you around.”</p><p>	<i>Don’t bite him</i>, she told herself, although she was sorely tempted. “Let’s just do this,” she said, and she was suddenly very tired. </p><p>	“But of course,” said the Master. “Let’s just get you situated.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>	Yaz lay on her stomach between the Doctor’s spread legs, and she tried to imagine what it would be like to do this if the Doctor was awake. </p><p>	The Doctor’s vulva was covered by dark blond hair, and her labia were very pink. She tasted faintly like salt and the musky scent of her filled up Yaz’s head. <i>He said an orgasm would do her good</i>, she thought, as she lapped at the Doctor’s clit, which was starting to wake up. </p><p>	A line from one of her mum’s favorite horror movies popped into her head; <i>Fun, in a necrophile sort of way,</i> and it kept rattling around her skull like a beer bottle in a train car. The Master’s eyes were drilling a hole into the back of her head, and the Doctor’s cunt was beginning to get wet against her face.</p><p>	Yaz spread the Doctor’s labia open with two fingers, and she began to lick along the pinkness there. She remembered the last time she’d done this, and she imagined doing it with the Doctor awake, the other woman moaning and squirming against her. She was growing aroused herself, as her tongue slid inside of the smooth warmth of the Doctor’s cunt, and she pressed her thighs together.</p><p>	She lost herself in it, holding on to the Doctor’s hips. The other woman was getting wetter against her, lush and soft. Yaz sighed, then hummed, wrapping her lips around the Doctor’s clit. She was paying so much attention to the Doctor that she didn’t even notice the Master coming up behind her, until there was a hand on her backside.</p><p>	“Don’t stop on my account,” the Master said, as he pushed up her skirt. “You seem to be doing a good job. The color is returning to her face.”</p><p>	“Why are you -” Yaz began, and then she gasped, as the Master’s finger probed between her legs, at the wet cotton of her knickers. </p><p>	“I can’t just sit here and watch,” the Master siad, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw he had his cock in his hand. “After all that complaining you did, about this being rape, and look at how wet you are!” One of his blunt fingers slid <i>into</i> her knickers, pressing along her slit, and she gasped. </p><p>	“Don’t,” she said, but she couldn’t move from between the Doctor’s legs, as he, in turn, spread her legs. He had her fenced in, and she whimpered as his chest pressed into her back, his breath hot on her neck.</p><p>	“I know I said this is bestiality,” he said, and his tone was downright <i>cheerful</i> as the blunt head of his cock dragged across the line of her vulva, “but who hasn’t been above a little donkey show now and then, hm?” The head of his cock was thick as it spread her open, and she whimpered, squirming under him. She was well and truly <i>pinned</i>. </p><p>	“Take it out,” Yaz gasped. </p><p>	“D’you think that’s what the Doctor would say, if she was awake?” The Master rolled his hips. “Well, you haven’t put anything in her, have you?” He got up on one elbow, driving himself deeper into her, and he grabbed the back of her head, pressing it back into the Doctor’s vulva. “Best get to it, shouldn’t you?”</p><p>	Yaz clutched at the Doctor’s hips, and she tried to ignore the way the Master’s hips slapped against her own. His cock was so <i>thick</i>, and her cunt didn’t seem to care that the rest of her didn’t want it. She was being pushed forward, into the Doctor, and the Doctor was beginning to make quiet little noises. </p><p>	Yaz wrapped her lips around the Doctor’s clit, her tongue flickering over it, and she kept her eyes squeezed shut as the Master began to grunt over her, like some kind of beast. </p><p>	This would all be over soon. She could feel him pulsing in her, and the Doctor’s hearts were getting faster against her mouth. She just had to keep licking, had to keep lying there with him, had to just keep going, and it would be fine. She would be fine.</p><p>	It would all be fine.</p><p>	The Doctor came against Yaz’s mouth, a gush of wetness and twitching. Some secret, dark part of Yaz longed to feel it from the inside, see how hard the Doctor would clench around her. </p><p>	But no. </p><p>	The Doctor’s legs stirred on either side of her, She blinked up the line of the Doctor’s body, and she met a pair of hurt, confused hazel eyes. </p><p>	“Yaz?” </p><p>	“Hello, Doctor,” the Master purred, and he gave an especially hard thrust. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” He did something especially inventive with his cock inside of her, and she clenched, more arousal gushing out of her own cunt. </p><p>	And tears were beginning to track down Yaz’s cheeks, to mix with the Doctor’s come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Fun, in a necrophile sort of way" is a line from <i>Rosemary's Baby</i>, which I have very conflicted feelings about, but the line was kind of perfect.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Thirteen/Aliens, Tentacles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you read <i>Mother of Demons</i> by Eric Flint, you might recognize a bit in here!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor was not usually one to admit that she was in over her head. </p><p>	She spent a lot of time over her head, to the point where she didn’t entirely know where her head even stood,in relation to… wherever it was she was supposed to be above. </p><p>	But it would be fine. It would all be fine. She’d been able to talk her way out of anything, and anyway, the people of this particular planet weren’t known for being malicious. Just… odd.</p><p>	Also handsy. Could someone be handsy, if they didn’t have hands?</p><p>	The Doctor had made polite conversation - mostly telepathically - standing on the little hillock in the swamp. There was some kind of land rights… issue going on presently, something that she didn’t know all the nitty gritty about, but the two groups were agreeing to talk to each other, which was the important part.</p><p>	But there were… specifics. The TARDIS translation circuit was having a little trouble, because their whole language involved <i>color</i> and something about the colors she was wearing seemed to be suggesting… something, but she couldn’t entirely wrap her brains around it because it was all tied up in complicated cultural nuance.</p><p>	<i>We wish to share our hospitality with you</i> was the emotion that was currently being beamed into the Doctor’s head, only it wasn’t <i>exactly</i> hospitality? That was one of the words suggested, but there was a faint… fuzziness around it, suggesting that the TARDIS wasn’t entirely sure. </p><p>	<i>Old girl needs a tune up</i>, the Doctor thought ruefully, and she tried to project her own thoughts back. <i>Your hospitality is very much appreciated, but I’m not in need of anything in particular.</i> </p><p>The people here at algae and a kind of disgusting, strange porridge strained through fish scales. They didn’t eat the fish either, and that was a shame, because the Doctor had always been one to appreciate a good grilled fish. Maybe she’d take the fam here, and they’d do a proper cook up.</p><p>Something was wrapping around her ankle, and she tugged the ankle free absentmindedly. She’d been brushing off tentacles slung around her shoulders, wrapped around her ankles, threading through her fingers. They were a very… touch-y race, and while she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, they didn’t begrudge her shrugs or her discomfort. </p><p>	The tentacle came back, though, and this time it was around her bare calf. </p><p>	<i>We can read your skin</i>, the being in front of her intoned. <i>You have been polite, keeping your feelings to yourself, but you cannot hide it from us.</i> They were flashing all the different colors, and the Doctor could only just make out the meaning. They were… gently admonishing? Affectionate? </p><p>	<i>My skin doesn’t work like your skin</i>, the Doctor said. The tentacle along her bare calf was sliding up towards the back of her knee, ticklish, but when she tried to pull her leg away, it kept her firmly rooted in place. </p><p>	<i>You are lonely</i>, another being said, and this one was behind her. She whipped around, to see someone emerging from the sludgy water beside the little hillock behind her. <i>You have done us a great good, and we will return the favor.</i></p><p>	There were tentacles wrapping around her arms now, forcing them behind her back, and she tried to pull them back, only to find herself well and truly <i>stuck</i>. The tentacles didn’t have her by the coat, but by the actual <i>wrists</i>, and there was something in their slime that was making her woozy and faintly spaced out. It was hard to keep track of the conversation - did their mucus have a soporific effect? It seemed to have one on Time Lords.</p><p>She’d have to remember that for the future. </p><p><i>You are so lonely</i>, said one of the beings, and this was a new one, as more tentacles made their way across the skin of her shins, up towards her hips. <i>So unloved.</i></p><p>“I assure you,” the Doctor said out loud, “I’m plenty loved. Not lonely at - mmf.”  There was a tentacle in her mouth now, and the slime on it reminded her of licorice - sharp, sitting on the back of her nose. The tentacle was moving gently, slowly, an in and out motion that pulsed in time with the bioluminescent lights that had started to glow off of all the beings surrounding her. </p><p>There was a tentacle that had wriggled its way into her shirtsleeve, leaving a trail of slime behind it, and then her nipples were being circled, being <i>plucked</i>, and her head was dizzy with it, her chest heaving. She looked down dizzily, her mouth full of tentacle, and saw the tentacle moving under her shirt. It was like a worm in an apple, and that was an unpleasant thought. </p><p>	The tentacle in her trousers moved up, into the leg of her boxers, and the very tip of it was gently tickling along her labia. The beings seemed to be in tune with her nerves, because they were finding all of her sensitive spots, her delicate places, and they were <i>swirling</i>, pulling. Some of the tentacles had suckers on them, and one of them was fastened to her nipple, catching and releasing in some kind of rhythm that she couldn’t keep track of.</p><p>	She stared at the bioluminescent pulses, bewitched in spite of herself, and the tentacle that had been stroking her labia slid between them. There was another tentacle, in the other leg of her trousers, and a sucker was pressing against her clit. It was a bit like having someone <i>actually</i> suck on her clit, and she sobbed around the thing in her mouth. She was too dazed to even protest, except that this wasn’t a thing she wanted, exactly.</p><p>	She had no <i>control</i>, and it was making her skin crawl. There were more tentacles in her trousers, up her boxers - something slimy was prodding her arse, and then there was at least one inside of her cunt, thin at the tip and getting wider and wider as it filled her up. Another tentacle joined her, and they were thrusting in and out. One of them found her g-spot,, and it felt like a <i>sucker</i> was attaching to it, which was… a lot.</p><p>	The Doctor gasped, then gagged as the tentacle in her mouth went deeper. She should have bitten it, but <i>oh</i>, she was so full, and when she clenched around the thing inside of her, it seemed like it pulsed all the harder, leaving her head spinning. There were tears tracking down her face, and more little tentacles were wiping them away. She wished she could form a coherent thought, wished she could tell them to <i>stop</i>, but every thrust seemed to draw her deeper, pull the tension in her gut that much <i>tighter</i>.</p><p>	It was such a slimy, wriggling sensation all around. It wasn’t like her own fingers, or any of the sex toys, or any kind of cock that she’d had inside of her. She, admittedly, didn’t have a lot of experience in this body, but… still. The boneless wriggling, the slimy in-and-out thrusts, and the intensity of the full body sensation was all just <i>too much</i>. </p><p>	A tentacle pressed into her arse, and she whined. She was so full, stuffed to the brim with tentacles, and then the sucker on her clit and the sucker on her g-spot seemed to pulse in tandem, and she came like an avalanche, crushing anything beneath her as her cunt squeezed the tentacles inside her tightly, her arse clenching tighter. She rode them both tightly, and she groaned in the back of her throat, her knees going weak. She was being held up by the tentacles, and she was too far gone to even whimper when another tentacle was added to her arse, and her clit was sucked a little harder, almost to the point of pain.</p><p>	<i>We will show you our gratitude,</i> some being said, and the pleasure in the being’s thoughts set off another cascading orgasm, pleasure coursing through her in shocking bursts, like arcs of electricity. </p><p>	She couldn’t even say “I’m grateful, enough already,” because she couldn’t form any thoughts. She rode her orgasm out, as more questing tentacles slid between her toes, squeezed her thighs, tickled her back. It was just nonstop, and she couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to tell them to <i>stop</i>, that she’d come, that she didn’t want this. </p><p>	She just had to ride it out, until… what?</p><p>	She was honestly afraid to find out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that, as it is said, is that! I hope you all enjoyed these last 31 days with me! I... am going to give my brain a rest, and <i>not</i> do another day to day challenge! Thank you all for coming along with me, and I hope you enjoyed reading these little ficlets as much as I enjoyed writing them!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love talking to people about fic and Who and a whole range of stuff, please come talk to me on my Twitter if ya feel like it. @TheseusInTheMaz</p></blockquote></div></div>
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